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THE  I5LE5  AND  5HRiriE5 


S.J.bARKOWS 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California. 


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THE 


ISLES    AND    SHRINES 


GREECE 


or  THE 

UNIVERSITY 
_       or 


THE 


ISLES  AND    SHRINES 


OF 


GREECE 


BY 


SAMUEL  J.  BARROWS 


ILLUSTRATED 

BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY 

1899 


\  B  R 
^f  THE 


dfORH\}L, 


Copyright,  1898, 
By  Samuel  J.  Barrows. 


John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


TO 

WILHELM  DORPFELD,  Ph.D.,  LL.D. 
director  oC  tije  German  ^rcfjacoloflical  5f«gtitute  at  ^ttens, 

WHO  IN   BRINGING  TO   LIGHT    THE    HIDDEN   TREASURES 

OF    THE    OLD    WORLD     HAS    WON     THE 

GRATITUDE   AND    ADMIRATION 

OF    THE    NEW. 


PREFACE 


The  isles  and  shrines  of  Greece !  Not  all  the 
shrines,  nor  all  the  isles,  but  many  of  them,  and  these 
the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  famous. 

This  book  is  a  partial  expression  of  gratitude  for 
rich  opportunities  enjoyed  in  Greece,  where  few  per- 
sons, I  fancy,  have  had  a  more  varied  experience. 
The  great  difficulty  has  been  to  compress  within  the 
limits  of  one  volume  the  mass  of  material  at  my 
command.  No  place  is  described  that  I  have  not 
seen,  though  I  saw  many  places  which  there  is  no 
room  to  describe.  Nearly  all  of  the  illustrations 
are  reproductions  from  photographs  from  my  own 
camera. 

In  fulfilling  a  desire  to  enter  Greece  by  the  por- 
tals of  the  Odyssey  and  to  leave  it  through  the 
Trojan  gates  of  the  Iliad,  my  trip  included  the 
Ionian  Islands,  the  Peloponnesus,  Phocis,  Thessaly, 
Attica,  the  ^gean  Islands  and  Troy.  If  Crete  is 
not  included,  it  is  because  it  lay  out  of  my  path, 
not  because  I  admit  the  Turkish  claim  to  that 
island,  which  by  every  consideration  of  history,  Ian- 


Vlll  PREFACE 

guage,  and  tradition  ought  to  be  on  the  map  of 
Greece. 

As  I  was  the  only  American  accompanying  Dr. 
Dorpfeld  in  his  fruitful  excavations  at  Troy  in  1893,  it 
is  a  special  satisfaction  to  present  some  of  the  main 
results  of  that  expedition  to  American  readers. 

Athens,  the  centre  of  Greek  life  and  nationality,  has 
received  a  large  share  of  attention.  But  such  chap- 
ters as  *'  The  Christian  Shrine,"  "  The  Altar  of  the 
Home,"  and  others  included  in  the  section  under 
Attica,  are  subjects  of  a  national  character.  The 
great  interest  awakened  among  students  by  Dr. 
Dorpfeld's  studies  of  the  old  Greek  theatre  should 
make  welcome  a  popular  account  in  English  of  the 
essential  features  of  his  theory  concerning  it. 

While  I  have  confined  myself  mainly  to  my  gen- 
eral theme,  I  have  tried  also  to  infuse  something 
of  the  spirit  of  Greek  life  and  nationality  into  these 
pages;  but  writing  for  the  general  reader  rather 
than  for  the  specialist,  I  have  had  to  omit  a  vast 
number  of  facts  and  details  upon  which  my  state- 
ments are  based.  For  the  same  reason  I  have 
sought  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  pedantry  by 
spelling  in  the  most  familiar  way  those  proper 
names  which  have  slipped  into  English  through  the 
Latin.  I  much  prefer  to  transliterate  Greek  directly 
into  English,  and  in  the  case  of  modern  Greek 
words  have  generally  done  this.  I  should  consider 
it  gross  impiety  to  use  a  Latin  name  for  a  Greek 
god. 


PREFACE  IX 

To  the  keen,  vigilant  eyes  and  ripe  scholarship  of 
Professor  J.  Irving  Manatt  of  Brown  University,  who 
has  read  the  proof-sheets,  made  wise  amendments, 
and  saved  me  from  many  errors,  my  special  thanks 
are  due.  Mr.  Michael  Anagnos  of  Boston,  a  Greek 
"  to  the  manner  born,"  has  cemented  a  friendship  of 
many  years  by  his  helpful  interest  in  these  pages. 
Professor  John  Williams  White  of  Harvard  Univer- 
sity has  read  the  chapter  on  *'  The  Greek  Theatre  " 
and  offered  valuable  suggestions. 

I  am  indebted  to  Professor  Tarbell  of  Chicago 
University  for  material  in  the  study  of  Attic  grave 
reliefs,  and  return  thanks  to  him  and  to  Professor 
J.  R.  Wheeler  of  Columbia  College,  his  associate  in 
the  conduct  of  the  American  Archaeological  School 
in  Athens  in  1892-93,  for  many  courtesies.  Professor 
Francis  Greenleaf  Allinson  of  Brown  University  gen- 
erously permits  me  to  use  his  close  and  spirited  trans- 
lation of  the  *'  Hymn  to  Apollo." 

A  few  sketches  which  appeared  originally  in  the 
Christian  Register  and  the  New  York  Tribune  have 
been  re-written  for  this  volume. 

In  the  early  pages  of  the  book  I  have  taken  a 
lively  interest  in  pilfering  from  the  notebooks  of 
my  daughter,  and  the  reader  cannot  be  sorrier  than 
I  am  that  Mavilla  did  not  accompany  me  in  all 
my  journeyings.  It  is  a  poor  girl  who  cannot  write 
better  than  her  father.  I  have  borrowed,  too,  with 
not  less  gratitude,  the  eyes,  the  memory  and  the 
literary  taste  of  my  wife. 


X  PREFACE 

But  where  shall  I  stop  in  my  acknowledgments? 
How  many  people  has  it  taken  to  make  this  book ! 
Dr.  Dorpfeld  will  know  how  much,  and  at  the  same 
time  how  little,  I  have  been  able  to  draw  from  his 
delightful  expositions.  I  cannot  refrain  from  ex- 
pressing my  gratitude  to  Dr.  Wolters,  the  second 
secretary  of  the  German  Archaeological  Institute ;  to 
Dr.  Korte,  now  of  Bonn ;  to  Mrs.  Schliemann,  Mr. 
Alexander  Rangabe,  Dr.  Kalopathakes  and  his  family, 
Miss  Marion  Muir  and  her  pupils  at  Athens;  to  Mon- 
sieur and  Madame  Parren ;  and  to  all  the  rest  who 
kindly  united  in  making  my  stay  in  Greece  a  pleasant 
and  abiding  memory. 

SAMUEL  J.   BARROWS. 

Washington,  D.  C. 
March  i,  i8g8. 


CONTENTS 


Pagb 

I    THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES    OF  GREECE 

The  Old  Greece  and  the  New 3 

II    THE   IONIAN   ISLES 

ViDo:  A  Greek  Quarantine 13 

Corfu.    I 24 

Corfu.    II      32 

Cephalonia:  A  Mountain  Monastery     ....  45 

Far-seen  Rocky  Ithaca 56 

Zante  : 

I  The  Work  of  the  Earthshaker 70 

II  A  Bit  of  Exegesis 82 

III     THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA 
The  Acropolis  of  Athens: 

I  The  Parthenon 89 

II  The  Propylasa 106 

III  The  Acropolis  Museum 116 

Attic  Grave  Reliefs 129 

The  Greek  Theatre 138 

Modern  Athens 155 

The  Street  and  the  Agora 162 

The  Altar  of  the  Home 181 

The  Christian  Shrine: 

I     From  Paganism  to  Christianity 201 

II  The  Modern  Greek  Church 214 


xii  CONTENTS 

Page 

Attic  Days 223 

I    A  Composite  Day 224 

II     The  Athenian  Press 228 

III  An  Athenian  Schoolboy 233 

IV  My  Frieze  of  Goats 238 

V    A  Greek  Bugle  Call 241 

VI    A  Theban  Terra-Cotta 242 

VII     A  Treasury  of  Bones 243 

VIII     An  Athenian  Tetradrachma 244 

IX     Some  Greek  Vases 247 

X     The  Greek  Calendar 248 

XI    Greek  Philanthropy 249 

Attic  Wanderings 251 

IV    THE   PELOPONNESUS 

From  Athens  to  Megalopolis 267 

From  Megalopolis  to  Olympia 282 

V    PHOCIS 295 

Delphi 297 

The  Delphic  Hymn  to  Apollo 303 

The  Monastery  of  St.  Luke 307 

VI    THESSALY 315 

Tempe  and  Meteora 317 

VII    ISLANDS   OF  THE  ^GEAN 
Eubcea  : 

I    An  International  Funeral 335 

II    Eretria 342 

The  Cyclades 344 

VIII    TROY 

I    Marching  on  Troy 355 

II    The  Modern  Siege 357 

INDEX 373 

INDEX  OF  GREEK  WORDS 390 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The  Theseion  and  the  Acropolis      ....  Frontispiece 

Cliffs  of  Corfu Facing  page  24 

The  Ship  of  Stone "  38 

Nike  binding  her  Sandal "  112 

The  Mourning  Athene "  123 

Grave  Relief.     Athens "  129 

Tomb  of  Hegeso.     Athens '*  130 

The  Theatre  at  Epidaurus "  152 

The  Areopagus "  201 

Byzantine  Church  at  Tegea "  206 

A  Homeric  Roast "  284 

Delphi "  298 

My  Little  Monk "  307 

Ploughing  in  Thessaly "  317 

The  Vale  of  Tempe **  322 

A  Mid-air  Monastery "  326 

Monastery  of  St.  Barlaam.    Ascent  by  Net 

and  Windlass "  330 

Excavations  at  Troy "  360 

Food  Jars  at  Troy "  368 


I 

THE  OLD  GREECE  AND  THE  NEW 


iSf  iroTaTToi  \i0oi  Koi  noTanai  oiKobofial. 

Mark  xiii. 


ISfjpiTov  €lvo(ri(PvWou  dpinpfnes  '   dpcfil  be  vfjaoi 
TloXXai  vaierdovai  pa\a  axfbov  dXKTjXrjai, 
Aovkix^iov  re  Sa/ii;  re  Koi  vXT]€ar(Ta  ZdKvvOoS' 

Odyssey  ix.  21 

The  Isles  of  Greece,  the  Isles  of  Greece  ! 

Where  burning  Sappho  loved  and  sung, 
Where  grew  the  arts  of  war  and  peace,  — 

Where  Delos  rose  and  Phcebus  sprung. 

Byron. 


anjasjgy^/saftB^ 


THE 

ISLES  AND  SHRINES  OF  GREECE 


THE  OLD  GREECE  AND  THE  NEW 

There  is  a  Greece  of  yesterday  and  a  Greece  of 
to-day,  and  every  Philhellene  believes  that  there  will 
be  a  Greece  of  to-morrow.  A  country  that  has 
emerged  from  so  many  catastrophes  of  history  can- 
not be  easily  extinguished  in  life,  language,  literature, 
art,  or  in  political  aspiration. 

Each  one  of  these  aspects  of  Greece  is  interesting 
to  me,  and  I  find  it  difficult  to  separate  them  except 
for  chronological  or  historic  purposes. 

One  cannot  set  foot  upon  Greek  soil  without 
feeling  the  thrill  of  centuries  of  history.  He  is 
brought  into  the  inspiring  presence  of  some  of  the 
most  perfect  triumphs  of  art,  or  sees  the  ruder  strug- 
gles of  a  more  primitive  age  seeking  to  realize  that 
which  was  to  come.  His  imagination  is  kindled  by 
embers  of  tradition  which  still  glow  in  the  life  and 
thought  of  the  people.  The  climate,  the  scenery,  the 
mountains,  rivers,  plains,  and  valleys  of  Greece  have 
been  reflected  in  its  literature,  and  furnish  a  beautiful 
background  for  its  history.  It  is  a  small  theatre  for 
human  action ;  but  what  a  drama  of  war,  art,  politics, 


4  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

religion,  and  civilization  has  been  enacted  within  its 
limits !  Battlefields,  shrines,  temples,  theatres,  in- 
scriptions, statues,  reliefs,  vases,  ornaments,  and 
household  utensils  —  some  of  them  preserved  on 
the  very  site  where  they  were  first  used  or  reared,  or 
stored  within  the  walls  of  the  greater  museums  —  are 
the  visible  reminders  to  the  traveller  of  a  life  and  a 
history  which  are  imperishably  embalmed  in  its  me- 
morials. And,  if  one  leaves  the  surface  and  descends 
into  the  tombs  of  Mycenee,  which  the  spade  of  Schlie- 
mann  unsealed,  he  goes  down  into  the  deep,  rich,  and 
curious  strata  upon  which  Greek  civilization  was  built. 
The  traveller  in  Greece  to-day  cannot  see  all  the  tem- 
ples or  shrines  which  were  seen  by  Pausanias  and 
Saint  Paul,  but  he  can  see  the  memorials  of  a  primi- 
tive civilization  which  was  lost  to  sight  and  mind, 
even  in  their  day,  except  as  it  was  preserved  in  the 
half-mythic,  half-historic  pictures  of  Homer. 

Then  there  is  a  higher  and  later  stratum  of  history, 
written  on  the  tombs,  walls,  porticos,  and  theatres  of 
the  Roman  occupation.  Still  later  there  is  a  stratum 
little  worked  in  our  schools,  but  of  much  interest, 
which  reveals  the  traces  of  Venetian,  Prankish,  and 
Byzantine  supremacy ;  and,  finally,  there  is  the  long, 
blood-stained  highway  of  Turkish  invasion  and  rule. 
The  Venetians  may  be  known  by  what  they  built  up ; 
the  Turks,  like  the  Persians,  by  what  they  pulled 
down.  In  the  great  earthquake  at  Zante,  some  of  the 
buildings  which  stood  firm,  though  not  unshaken, 
were  the  massive  monuments  of  Venetian  architecture, 
seen  in  the  old  castle  and  in  private  dwellings  which 
have  survived  the  shocks  of  seven  hundred  years. 
But,  except  here  and  there  in  the  remains  of  some 


THE  OLD  GREECE  AND  THE  NEW        5 

mosque,  the  Turkish  epoch  is  mainly  shown  by  bom- 
bardment, neglect,  and  devastation. 

The  traveller  in  Greece  sees  the  marks  not  only  of 
the  surge  of  political  forces,  but  of  the  march  and 
conflict  of  religious  ideas.  First,  it  is  the  magnificent 
reign  of  the  Greek  gods,  when  the  religious  sen- 
timent was  beautifully  and  grandly  incarnated  in  the 
stone  hewn  from  its  mountain  quarries.  Then  came 
the  triumph  of  the  cross,  and  afterward  the  triumph 
of  the  crescent.  If  the  cross  may  accuse  the  cres- 
cent, certainly  the  crescent  can  accuse  the  cross  of 
pillaging  the  temples  and  destroying  the  monuments 
of  the  heathenism  to  which  it  succeeded. 

But  Greece  is  something  more  than  a  graveyard  of 
a  dead  religion  or  a  dead  nation.  It  reveals  a  life 
which  is  interesting  partly  because  it  is  the  pro- 
longation and  reproduction  of  the  life  of  the  past, 
and  partly  because  it  is  a  fresh,  new  life  of  our  day. 
Greece  is  one  of  the  oldest  and  at  the  same  time  one 
of  the  youngest  of  nations.  It  traces  with  pride  its 
long  lineage  back  to  Pericles,  Solon,  and  their  pro- 
genitors ;  but  it  thrills  with  more  excitement  as  it 
recounts  the  story  of  the  Greek  revolution  the  smoke 
of  whose  battles  has  but  just  passed  away.  I  have 
heard  children  in  the  Athenian  schools  recite,  not 
without  ancestral  pride,  the  story  of  Marathon  as  a 
task  to  be  learned ;  but  I  remember  more  vividly 
a  scene  in  a  Greek  prison  school  in  which  a  boy 
told  a  story  from  the  history  of  the  revolution  with 
such  power  that  he  was  carried  away  by  his  own  ear- 
nestness, and  the  visitors,  themselves  native  Greeks, 
were  kindled  by  his  patriotism.  The  Greeks  always 
have  been  and  still  are  an  intensely  patriotic  people. 


6  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

Ages  of  misfortune  and  oppression  have  not  sufficed 
to  quench  this  sentiment,  though  there  is  the  same 
difficulty  to-day  that  there  used  to  be  in  giving  it 
united  expression.  It  is  but  sixty-five  years  since 
the  new  kingdom  of  Greece  was  formed  after  the  de- 
liverance from  Turkish  rule.  In  that  time  it  has 
made  rapid  progress  in  adapting  itself  to  the  condi^ 
tions  of  European  civilization  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. The  process  is  still  going  on.  If  it  is  somewhat 
melancholy  to  see  the  ruins  of  the  older  Greece,  it  is 
extremely  interesting  to  see  the  work  of  building  the 
new  nation  on  the  ruins  of  the  old.  Our  own  country 
is  an  example  of  a  nation  whose  development  is  pro- 
ceeding with  the  greatest  rapidity  and  on  the  grandest 
scale.  This  is  one  reason,  as  Professor  Palmer  has  so 
well  shown  in  his  address  on  "  The  Glory  of  the  Im- 
perfect," why  America  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
countries  in  the  world  to  live  in.  The  process  of  mak- 
ing history  is  even  more  fascinating  than  the  process 
of  reviewing  it  after  it  is  made.  For  the  same  reason 
I  find  it  hard  to  be  simply  a  student  of  archaeology 
or  history  in  Greece.  Many  go  there  whose  interest 
and  occupation  it  is  to  study  simply  the  monuments  of 
the  past  and  who  have  little  time  for  or  little  interest 
in  the  present.  They  hardly  care  for  anything  that  is 
not  older  than  the  Christian  era.  Antiquity  is  at  a 
premium  here,  and  it  brings  its  price.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Philistine  finds  his  way  to  Greece  also.  He 
has  no  time  or  taste  for  anything  that  is  not  still  alive 
and  capable  of  making  a  bargain.  A  merchant  resi- 
dent in  Greece,  and  born  of  English  parents,  told  me 
that  he  had  been  in  Athens  several  times,  but  he  had 
never  climbed  to  see  the  Parthenon. 


THE  OLD  GREECE  AND  THE  NEW        7 

The  real  Panhellenist,  like  our  own  Professor  Fel- 
ton,  is  deeply  and  intensely  interested  in  the  old 
Greece,  but  as  keenly  and  sympathetically  interested 
in  the  new.  It  is  nearly  thirty  years  since  I  read 
his  fascinating  Lowell  lectures  on  "Ancient  and  Mod- 
ern Greece."  As  I  think  of  the  interest  of  that 
work  as  a  fresh  presentation  of  the  old  and  a  vivid 
picture  of  the  new,  I  find  it  to-day  serving  as  a 
sort  of  mile-stone  to  denote  the  immense  progress 
which  archaeology  has  made  in  Greece  since  it  was 
written.  At  that  time  Schliemann  had  not  put  his 
spade  into  the  ground.  The  treasures  of  Troy, 
Mycenae,  Tiryns,  and  Olympia  were  still  buried. 
Eleusis,  Megalopolis,  Epidaurus,  Argos,  Delphi, 
Rhamnus,  and  many  of  the  islands  were  lying  al- 
most undisturbed  as  they  had  been  for  centuries. 
The  traveller  walked  over  their  sites  scarcely  know- 
ing that  below  him  were  the  remains  of  temples  and 
theatres  and  works  of  art  which  it  only  required 
shovels  and  wheelbarrows  and  human  muscle  to  re- 
veal. The  exquisite  Hermes  of  Praxiteles  and  the 
fourteen  thousand  bronzes  of  Olympia,  a  large  part 
of  the  rich  collection  of  statues  and  grave  reliefs  at 
the  Central  Museum  of  Athens,  and  nearly  all  the 
collection  at  the  Acropolis  Museum,  were  not  yet 
unearthed.  Indeed  a  whole  library  of  books  and  re- 
ports needs  to  be  written  to  describe  the  monuments 
and  buildings,  statues  and  treasures,  which  have  been 
found  since  Felton's  day.  Modern  archaeological 
science  has  been  almost  created  in  that  time.  This 
is  one  reason  why  Greece  has  still  such  a  fascination 
for  the  enterprising  archaeologist.  He  knows  that  he 
is  working  in  a  field  which  is  not  exhausted.     The 


8  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES    OF  GREECE 

spade  is  even  mightier  than  the  pen.  The  promise 
allures  him.  He  reads  in  his  Pausanias  the  record  of 
whole  forests  of  statues  and  temples.  Who  can  tell 
when  he  may  make  a  discovery  which  will  reveal 
some  masterpiece  of  art  or  settle  some  of  the  vexed 
questions  of  history?  Thus  archaeological  work  has 
an  interest  here  which  it  cannot  have  in  Paris  or  Ber- 
lin. The  student  there  works  with  material  that  is 
already  furnished  him ;  in  Greece  he  has  an  opportu- 
nity of  unearthing  it  for  himself.  If  the  material  is 
old  the  science  itself  is  new.  There  is  something  to 
excite  youthful  ardor.  It  has  the  fascination  and 
perpetual  promise  that  fishing  affords  to  the  de- 
voted angler,  only  the  fishing  is  done  in  the  earth 
instead  of  the  sea.  It  is  not  surprising  then  that 
many  of  the  men  working  in  the  field  in  Greece  have 
no  gray  hair  on  their  heads.  Even  Dorpfeld  the 
prince  of  modern  archaeologists,  at  least  in  relation 
to  architecture,  is  little  over  forty  years  old ;  and  to 
refute  the  presumption  that  an  archaeologist  must  be 
a  dried-up,  wizened  specimen  of  humanity  he  easily 
and  modestly  bears  the  honors  of  the  handsomest 
man  in  Athens. 

But  the  interest  of  Greece  is  not  all  below  ground 
nor  in  the  new  and  active  life  above  it.  There  is  an 
atmospheric,  a  physical  charm,  in  its  climate  and 
scenery  which  attracts  and  rewards  the  traveller 
though  he  may  care  little  for  its  ruins  or  for 
the  new  life  about  him.  He  may  breathe  the  fresh, 
soft  air,  rejoice  in  the  glow  of  the  sunlight  which 
shines  for  so  many  days  with  undimmed  brilliancy, 
and  see  in  the  face  of  Nature  the  same  sweet  smile 
which  beautified   it  three  thousand  years   ago.      In 


THE  OLD  GREECE  AND  THE  NEW        9 

that  time  Nature  has  not  been  wholly  asleep.  For- 
ests have  disappeared,  springs  have  run  dry,  rivers 
have  changed  their  courses,  the  sea  has  receded  from 
the  shore,  villages  and  cities  have  decayed  and  been 
buried  in  earth  and  oblivion ;  but  still  there  is  the 
same  grandeur  of  the  mountain,  the  same  fresh  beauty 
of  the  plain,  the  same  peace  or  wrath  of  the  sea,  as 
when  the  Homeric  rhapsodist  sang  the  glories  of 
Olympus  or  painted  in  hexameters  the  garden  of 
Alcinoiis.  Byron  gives  a  faithful  transcript  of  the 
scene  when  he  says :  — 

"  And  yet  how  lovely  in  thine  age  of  woe, 

Land  of  lost  gods  and  godlike  men,  art  th.ou ! 
Thy  vales  of  evergreen,  thy  hills  of  snow, 
Proclaim  thee  Nature's  varied  favorite  now. 

Yet  are  thy  skies  as  blue,  thy  crags  as  wild, 

Sweet  are  thy  groves,  and  verdant  are  thy  fields, 
Thine  olive  ripe  as  when  Minerva  smiled. 

And  still  his  honeyed  wealth  Hymettus  yields. 
There  the  blithe  bee  his  fragrant  fortress  builds. 

The  free-born  wanderer  of  thy  mountain  air ; 
Apollo  still  thy  long,  long  summer  gilds. 

Still  in  his  beam  Mendeli's  marbles  glare : 
Art,  glory,  freedom,  fail ;  but  Nature  still  is  fair." 

The  organization  of  modern  travel,  the  multiplica- 
tion of  railroad  and  steamship  connections,  the  ap- 
pearance on  the  field  of  a  new  convenience  and  a  new 
distress  in  the  shape  of  a  Cook  or  Gaze  agent  has 
enabled  the  tourist  "to  do"  Athens  and  the  rest  of 
Greece  in  four  or  five  days ;  but  Greece  will  not  do 
what  she  might  for  him  unless  he  banishes  the  demon 
of  haste  and  basks  for  months  in  the  smile  of  her 
lovely  countenance.     An  instantaneous  view  is  better 


lO  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

than  nothing ;  but  there  are  fine  shades  of  expression 
and  soft,  dreamy  revelations  of  beauty  which  can  only 
be  taken  by  a  time  exposure. 

The  old  Greece  and  the  new.  Rather  let  me  say 
the  old  Greece  in  the  new,  and  the  new  Greece  in  the 
old.  This  to  me  is  the  perpetual  fascination  of  this 
land.  The  past  and  the  present  cannot  be  wholly 
unravelled.  The  old  and  the  new  are  continually  in- 
termingling. Temples  have  fallen  and  monuments 
are  broken,  but  the  ideals  of  beauty  they  embodied 
still  animate  the  modern  world.  The  gods  no  lon- 
ger sit  on  Olympus,  but  Olympus  still  lies  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Almighty.  You  stand  on  the  Acro- 
polis and  reverently  view  the  Parthenon ;  and  then 
your  eye  turns  to  the  ever  old  and  ever  new  sea,  or 
lights  on  the  fresh  verdure  of  the  grain  that  is  grow- 
ing in  the  valley,  or  watches  the  changing  colors  of 
the  sunset  spreading  over  Hymettus.  You  turn  to- 
ward the  Areopagus  and  think  of  the  grand  address 
which  Paul  gave  to  the  crowd  from  the  market;  but 
down  in  the  schools  and  streets  below  the  children 
are  repeating  words  and  phrases  some  of  which  are 
eight  centuries  older  than  the  speech  of  Paul,  but  are 
still  included  in  the  same  tongue.  Scarcely  a  festi- 
val passes  that  some  old  custom  does  not  come  to 
light  which  embodies  the  memory  of  classic  days. 

The  old  Greece  in  the  new ;  the  new  Greece  in  the 
old.  In  what  I  write  I  shall  not  try  to  separate  them 
wholly.  It  is  the  unity  of  the  impression  which 
makes  the  reality  of  Greece  as  it  is. 

**  Why  do  you  go  to  Greece?  "  said  some  one  to  me. 
It  was  a  strange  question.    It  nearly  dumfounded  me. 

"  Why  does  any  one  stay  away  ?  " 


II 

THE   IONIAN   ISLES 


VIDO:    A   GREEK   QUARANTINE 

How  many  travellers  in  Greece  spend  their  first 
night  on  Greek  soil  in  a  house  of  their  own  construc- 
tion? Built,  too,  with  an  axe  and  a  needle!  Not 
Mycenaean,  Doric,  Ionic,  or  Corinthian  in  style,  but 
historically  Greek  and  essentially  nomadic.  If  I  gave 
it  its  etymological  name  I  should  call  it  scenic  archi- 
tecture. That  Greek  word  aKr^vrj  has  come  down  to 
us  through  a  series  of  theatrical  transformations  and 
embodied  itself  in  the  word  scene  in  our  own  language 
with  a  great  deal  of  its  dramatic  odor  and  character. 
But  in  modern  Greek  it  still  retains,  also,  its  primitive 
meaning  of  tent,  —  one  example  of  a  thousand  other 
moss-grown  words  which  have  come  down  from  the 
days  of  Homer. 

We  had  crossed  the  broad  ocean,  spent  some  weeks 
on  the  Continent,  and  made  at  Naples  our  final  ar- 
rangements for  the  invasion  of  Greece.  Travellers 
had  told  us  that  an  indomitable  will,  a  tough  skin, 
and  an  artistic  spirit  were  all  that  were  necessary. 
As  this  outfit  could  not  be  procured  in  Naples,  we 
tried  to  get  a  few  other  things  on  which  we  might 
rely.  Our  providence  in  this  direction  was  greatly 
stimulated  by  the  predictions  of  a  friend  in  Rome 
that  a  Greek  quarantine  was  something  not  to  be 
endured.  Of  our  party  of  seven,  —  four  ladies,  two 
boys,  and  his  modesty,  myself,  —  all  but  one  had 
camped  out  on  the  **  Beautiful  Water"  of  Canada, 


14  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

which  the  Greeks  might  insist  on  calHng  BaXaaaa 
/caXrjy  but  which  the  Indians,  not  knowing  Greek,  had 
roughly  called  **  Memphremagog."  It  was  not  easy 
in  Naples  to  get  all  that  might  be  needed  for  a 
camper's  outfit.  "  A  hamper  of  provisions,"  says 
Mavilla,  *'  containing  plenty  of  figs,  sweet  chocolate, 
and  niarrojis  glaccSy  was  the  most  important  part  of 
our  equipment.  We  had,  moreover,  a  small  kerosene 
stove,  a  baby  tomahawk,  a  roll  of  Roman  silk  blan- 
kets and  enough  heavy  drilling  to  make  a  large  tent. 
Our  family  had  not  camped  out  seventeen  summers 
without  learning  something  of  the  art  of  making 
much  of  little ;  so  when  we  added  to  our  outfit  a  steel 
knife  and  a  spoon  apiece  we  looked  forward  undis- 
mayed to  the  Greek  quarantine." 

I  was  obliged  to  travel  from  Naples  in  a  separate 
compartment  from  my  family  and  was  thereby 
relieved  from  following  Paul's  occupation  as  a  tent- 
maker;  but  what  happened  in  the  ladies'  compart- 
ment, and  the  subsequent  experience  at  Brindisi, 
Mavilla  has  faithfully  recorded :  — 

*'  On  many  of  our  journeys  it  would  have  been 
hard  to  confine  ourselves  to  tent-making.  Crossing 
the  St.  Gotthard  Pass  it  would  have  been  wicked  to 
lose  a  minute  of  that  magnificent  scenery.  Even  the 
pleasant  monotony  of  Holland  gives  a  continual  en- 
joyment to  the  eye ;  but  the  journey  from  Naples  to 
Brindisi  is  well  adapted  to  sewing,  reading,  or  sleep- 
ing. Brown  fields  stretch  away  to  the  brown  foot- 
hills. Glaring  white  farmhouses  are  scattered  among 
the  brown  vineyards.  Occasional  cornfields,  dashed 
with  yellow  pumpkins,  soften  the  treeless  landscape. 
There  are  few  signs  of  life  except  here  and  there  a 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  1 5 

farmer  ploughing  with  his  white  oxen,  or  a  peasant 
riding  across  the  country  on  his  Httle  brown  donkey. 
One  misses  the  richness  and  briUiancy  of  the  usual 
Italian  landscape,  and  wonders  at  the  dulness  of  life 
in  the  heel  of  Italy.  When  we  reached  Taranto,  our 
20  X  30  tent  was  finished. 

*'  An  obsequious  Httle  English  agent  met  us  at  the 
dingy  station  at  Brindisi  and  guided  us  through  the 
darkness  to  the  waiting  carriages.  Our  amazement 
knew  no  bounds  when  we  saw  ourselves  surrounded 
by  crowds  of  men  with  lanterns,  banners,  and  torches, 
shouting  and  singing  to  the  accompaniment  of  drums 
and  a  brass  band  !  They  at  once  made  room  for  our 
open  vehicles  to  lead  the  procession  while  they 
walked  beside  us  and  fell  in  behind.  On  all  sides 
was  the  greatest  enthusiasm  and  excitement,  cries  of 
"  Viva  Monticelli !  "  "  Viva  le  donne  !  "  Puzzled  as 
we  were,  we  could  not  help  laughing,  even  in  the 
pecuHar  situation  of  being  the  only  women  in  the 
streets.  The  revellers  saw  that  we  were  disposed  to 
be  good-natured,  so  they  increased  their  merriment, 
brandished  their  torches,  and  waved  their  flags  over 
our  heads.  At  last  we  learned  that  there  had  been 
an  election  and  Brindisi  was  celebrating  the  victory  of 
the  favorite  candidate.  The  unusual  advent  of  stran- 
gers was  an  opportunity  not  to  be  wasted,  so  we  were 
escorted  to  the  quay  in  triumph." 

The  steamer  left  at  two  in  the  morning,  but  we  were 
safely  and  comfortably  settled  the  night  before. 

The  trip  from  Italy  to  Corfu,  the  first  of  the  Greek 
isles,  is  a  delightful  one,  when  favored  as  we  were 
with  a  calm  sea  and  a  clear  sky.  By  early  morning 
we  find  the  bare  and  rugged  outlines  of  the  Albanian 


1 6  THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

mountains  rising  on  the  left,  at  first  with  a  dimpled 
sky  line,  then  growing  more  rugged  and  varied. 
They  are  for  us  the  first  sight  of  a  country  over 
which  Turkish  rule  is  extended.  The  hills  are  brown, 
gray  and  barren.  Off  to  the  right  are  islands  of  hazy 
blue.  About  ten  o'clock  Corfu  comes  in  sight,  — ■ 
first  a  long  tongue  of  land  lapping  the  sea,  from 
which  rise  stalwart  mountains,  wrapped  in  blue.  This 
island,  with  its  mountains,  has  been  the  scene  of  many 
a  conflict,  mythical  or  historic;  but  now  it  lies  en- 
swathed  in  perfect  calm,  as  if  it  might  really  be  the 
fabled  land  of  Alcinoiis.  As  we  near  it,  the  hills 
describe  more  graceful  curves  and  reveal  their  fresh 
verdure.  At  first  there  is  Httle  indication  of  human 
life ;  and  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  this  lovely  island 
was  known  to  the  ancients  for  centuries  before  the 
existence  of  another  continent  was  dreamed  of,  and 
that  it  has  been  the  theatre  of  Homeric  myths, 
the  struggles  of  Greek  against  Greek,  or  of  foreign 
rivalry  and  rule.  Then  come  signs  of  the  fertility 
which  distinguishes  the  island.  Olive  groves  spread 
over  the  hills.  A  white  house  stands  like  an  outpost 
on  a  point  overlooking  a  charming  bay.  The  blue 
sea  is  like  a  smooth  lake.  The  hills  are  green,  black, 
brown  and  gray.  Vessels  are  lying  sleepily  along 
the  shore,  taking  siestas  of  oriental  languor. 

But  we  may  not  touch  those  sacred  shores  till 
the  days  of  our  purification  are  accomplished.  Of 
more  immediate  interest  to  us  than  the  harbor  of 
Corfu,  which  lies  before  us  under  its  protecting  hills, 
is  the  question,  "Where  is  our  quarantine  to  be 
passed?  "  Just  to  the  east  of  Corfu  lies  the  island  of 
Vido.      We    slowly  round    its   southern    end,    raise 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  1 7 

our  flag,  and  come  to  anchor  in  the  harbor.  Rows 
of  one-story  brick  buildings  are  seen  on  the  shore. 
There  is  something  ominous  in  their  yellow  color, 
but  they  cannot  wholly  tinge  the  cheerful  complexion 
of  the  quiet,  sun-bathed  island. 

Now  the  health  officer  has  mounted  the  ladder  and 
taken  a  census  of  the  passengers, —  so  many  first 
class,  so  many  second  class,  so  many  steerage.  Then 
we  are  told  that  only  about  ten  more  can  be  accom- 
modated on  the  island.  The  larger  number  must 
spend  two  days  of  the  quarantine  on  the  steamer  till 
there  is  more  room.  The  steamer  was  not  bad,  but 
the  island  seemed  better.  It  was  then  that  the  tent 
which  the  ladies  had  made  turned  the  scale  in  our 
favor. 

"  May  we  put  up  a  tent  and  camp  by  ourselves?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  health  officer. 

The  director  was  sitting  in  a  boat  below. 

**  Is  your  tent  all  ready?  "  he  shouted. 

"Not  quite,"  I  answered.  I  saw  that  there  were 
almost  no  trees  on  the  island.  There  were  some 
good  spars  on  the  steamer,  but  they  could  not  be 
purchased  for  tent-poles.  A  tent  without  poles  or 
ropes  would  be  a  heap  of  shapeless  cloth  —  duck 
without  bones. 

"What  do  you  require?  "  shouted  the  director. 

"  About  thirty  yards  of  rope." 

"How  large?" 

"  The  size  of  your  tiller  ropes." 

"Anything  else?" 

"  A  pair  of  long  oars  for  our  tent-poles." 

The  director  and  his  boat  left  for  Corfu ;  and,  be- 
fore we  had  disembarked  from  the  steamer,  the  rope 


1 8  THE   ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

and  the  oars  were  in  the  boat  alongside  which  was 
to  take  us  ashore,  I  had  heard  that  Greeks  could 
be  slow.  I  did  not  dream  that  they  could  be  so 
prompt.  Wing-sandalled  Hermes  could  not  have 
done  better. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  had  landed  with  our  bag- 
gage. Then  came  the  most  amusing  part  of  our 
experience.  There  were  already  on  the  island  two 
or  three  groups  of  passengers  from  other  vessels. 
None  of  these  were  allowed  to  mingle  with  any  ex- 
cept those  of  their  own  group.  The  officers  and  pur- 
veyors stood  likewise  aloof,  and  talked  to  passengers 
at  a  distance  of  six  feet,  over  which  it  is  assumed 
that  a  cholera  germ  cannot  travel  during  a  short 
conversation.  The  first  process  was  to  secure  the 
names,  ages,  and  nativity  of  the  new  arrivals.  The 
agent  stood  at  a  safe  distance  and  asked  questions 
and  noted  the  answers.  If  a  passenger  ventured  to 
move  towards  him,  he  beat  a  hasty  retreat.  Even 
the  mildest  and  most  interesting  young  lady,  as  fair 
as  the  princess  who  used  to  live  at  Corfu,  became  an 
object  of  terror.  The  agent,  who  spoke  little  Eng- 
lish, but  talked  in  Greek,  French,  and  Italian,  dis- 
trusted his  ability  to  write  the  names  of  our  party. 
He  cautiously  put  his  pencil  and  paper  on  the 
ground  and  retired  several  feet.  I  advanced,  and 
took  it  up,  and  wrote  the  necessary  information. 
Then  I  laid  it  on  the  ground,  with  the  pencil,  and 
retired.  The  officer  returned  boldly,  picked  it  up 
and  likewise  retired,  but  not  before  I  had  levelled 
and  snapped  my  kodak  amid  the  laughter  of  the  on- 
lookers. Is  photography  under  such  circumstances 
contagious? 


THE  IONIAN   ISLES  I9 

Rooms  were  then  allotted  to  passengers,  and  a 
guard,  acting  also  as  a  servant,  was  assigned  to  each 
group. 

We  hastened  in  the  waning  afternoon  to  put  up 
our  tent.  A  large  haystack  stood  in  the  middle  of  a 
field  not  far  from  the  quarantine  building.  This 
would  furnish  a  good  backing  and  a  protection  from 
the  wind.  We  had  but  two  oars  for  tent-poles ;  one 
of  these  could  serve  as  a  ridgepole.  We  drove  the 
blade  into  the  hay  at  the  proper  height,  set  the  other 
oar  perpendicularly  on  the  ground  and  lashed  it  to 
the  ridgepole.  Not  far  away  was  a  small  fig-tree 
which  lanni,  our  guard  and  guide,  cut  down  and  used 
as  an  additional  prop  for  the  ridgepole.  Across  this 
frame  we  hung  our  tent. 

We  had  no  tent-pins,  but  the  English  government 
had  spent  five  million  dollars  in  furnishing  us  substi- 
tutes. For  fifty  years,  Corfu  and  the  Ionian  Isles 
were  under  the  protectorate  of  Great  Britain.  During 
this  period,  that  government  erected  vast  and  expen- 
sive fortifications  commanding  the  harbor  of  Corfu. 
When  the  islands  were  relinquished  to  Greece  in 
1863,  these  fortifications  were  dismantled  and  blown 
to  pieces.  We  guyed  our  tent  to  some  of  the  mass 
of  fragments  and  used  smaller  ones  in  place  of  tent- 
pins  to  hold  down  our  canvas.  Meanwhile  deft  fin- 
gers had  sewed  and  hung  Turkey-red  curtains,  giving 
an  oriental  brilliancy  to  the  interior  and  dividing  it 
into  compartments. 

A  home-made  Yankee  tent  and  a  manufactured 
English  ruin  for  our  first  night  in  Greece ! 

Our  Greek  and  Italian  fellow  passengers  were  in- 
clined to  commiserate  us  for  having  only  the  shelter 


20  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

of  canvas ;  but,  when  we  assured  them  that  we  had 
had  seventeen  summers'  experience  in  tent  life  (at 
least  some  of  us),  and  that  Canadian  Augusts  were 
often  as  cold  as  this  Greek  November,  their  fears 
were  quieted. 

If  the  ruin  was  modern  and  made  to  order,  it 
served  very  well  as  an  introduction  to  some  that  were 
to  follow.  Later,  we  had  abundant  opportunities  to 
see  what  the  tooth  of  time  and  shattering  earthquakes 
could  do  in  furnishing  melancholy  classical  ruins ;  but 
these  enormous  masses  of  stone,  in  jagged  angular 
confusion,  with  the  mouths  of  cannon  yawning  from 
out  the  chaos,  were  a  striking  witness  of  what  gun- 
powder could  do  in  tearing  to  pieces  a  work  built  to 
resist  it.  There  is  but  one  point  of  terrible  affinity 
between  this  rugged  mass  of  ruins  and  the  fairest 
gem  of  Greek  architecture  :  it  was  gunpowder  in  the 
shape  of  a  wicked  bomb  from  Morosini's  battery 
which  wrecked  the  Parthenon. 

The  departure  of  the  first  company  of  passen- 
gers enabled  us  to  secure  a  room  as  precaution 
against  storm.  Our  tent  was  made  more  luxurious 
by  the  addition  of  iron  bedsteads.  We  cooked  our 
own  light  breakfast.  Luncheon  and  dinner  we  ate  at 
the  tables  furnished  for  first-class  passengers  by  the 
proprietor  of  the  St  George  Hotel  at  Corfu.  lanni, 
our  squire,  followed  us  about  with  vigilant  and  help- 
ful fidelity ;  he  was  always  at  beck  and  call.  A  little 
donkey,  with  two  water-casks  slung  over  his  back, 
brought  water  from  a  well  a  third  of  a  mile  away  to 
fill  water  jars,  which  suggested  Homeric  times.  The 
ruins  of  the  English  fortress  challenged  us  to  climb 
and   scramble.      The   island,  half  a   mile  wide   and 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  21 

three-quarters  of  a  mile  long,  furnished  a  good  prom- 
enade. The  beautiful  scenery  of  Corfu  was  spread 
before  us.  We  bathed  in  the  clear  warm  water,  wrote 
letters,  read,  chatted,  and  listened  to  the  Babel  of 
languages  at  dinner ;  Greek,  Italian,  French,  German, 
and  English  were  all  spoken  by  the  twenty  people  at 
our  dinner-table.  A  Babel  without  the  tower  !  The 
Italian  steerage  passengers  in  another  part  of  the 
island  poured  forth  an  endless  stream  of  words. 
The  Florentine  or  Roman  ItaHan  is  musical  enough, 
but  the  Venetian  or  Neapolitan,  when  uttered  rapidly, 
sounds  like  a  succession  of  firecrackers  or  torpedoes. 
The  vowels  explode  like  a  Gatling  gun  and  the  con- 
sonants go  off  in  smoke. 

The  United  States  Consular  Agent,  Mr.  Stretch, 
was  kindness  itself  He  executed  commissions  for 
us  in  Corfu,  and  twice  crossed  to  the  island  to  see  us. 
We  were  allowed  to  talk  to  him  across  a  ten-foot 
space,  separated  by  fences. 

It  is  but  just  to  recognize  the  unfailing  courtesy  of 
the  Greek  medical  director  and  of  all  who  had  to 
administer  the  duties  of  his  department.  We  had 
prepared  ourselves  for  a  quarantine  which  might  be 
a  purgatory;  but  this  proved  to  be  a  haven  of 
rest.  It  needs  the  youthful  enthusiasm  of  Mavilla  to 
describe  it: 

"  Life  at  the  Vido  was  a  happy  dream.  We  learned 
then,  if  never  before,  the  true  meaning  of  dolce  far 
7iiente.  Although  the  end  of  November  it  was  what 
we  should  call  June  weather  with  nothing  but  sun- 
shine and  starshine  during  our  stay. 

**  I  cannot  pass  quickly  over  this  our  charming  im- 
prisonment, for,  though  it  lasted  but  a  few  days,  it 


22  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRTNES   OF   GREECE 

seems  as  if  we  were  there  for  weeks.  Without  it  our 
Greece  would  not  be  one  half  so  dear  to  us  as  it 
is.  There  in  the  sunshine  amid  the  flowers  we  lay- 
on  the  grass  and  wove  wreaths  of  superb  crimson 
gowans  while  some  one  read  aloud.  We  dutifully 
read  to  the  end,  but  the  circle  of  listeners  grew  con- 
stantly smaller  as  we  strolled  away  to  the  other  side 
of  the  island  or  wandered  over  the  ruins  of  the  old 
fort.  Would  you  not  like  to  stray  among  blooming 
crocuses  in  November,  gathering  handfuls  of  cycla- 
men and  Jack-in-the-pulpits?  We  plucked  them  fresh 
a  dozen  times  a  day  and  then  marvelled  that  they 
grew  no  less. 

*'  A  thousand  happy  memories  will  always  cling  to 
Vido :  the  delightful  sea-bathing  at  full  noon ;  the 
hot  afternoons  that  we  spent  on  the  bluff,  listening 
to  the  military  music  floating  across  the  water  from 
the  fortress;  the  cool  evenings  when  the  wandering 
musicians  from  Corfu  serenaded  us  with  mandolin 
and  guitar,  while  the  Zingara  flirted,  the  tenor  sang 
and  we  danced  on  the  bluff. 

"  On  the  last  day  we  gave  an  afternoon  tea.  We 
received  on  the  veranda  of  our  little  cottage,  as  the 
tent  had  already  been  taken  down.  Our  guests  were 
three  Greek  gentlemen  and  the  United  States  Consular 
Agent  from  Corfu.  As  a  government  official,  the  lat- 
ter was  allowed  to  land  on  the  island,  but  he  could 
only  come  as  far  as  the  boundary  railing.  We  stood 
behind  another  bar,  ten  feet  away,  and  balanced  his 
refreshments  on  the  end  of  a  long  rail.  The  rest  of 
us  drank  our  tea  from  little  blue-spotted  bowls  which 
the  Consul  had  sent  us  from  Corfu.  A  little  Dutch 
plate  of  great  antiquity,  that  we  had  brought  from 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  23 

Marken,  held  our  biscuit.  Since  we  had  no  other 
dishes,  box-covers  served  for  bon-bon  trays.  Surely 
never  was  a  more  Arcadian  afternoon.  The  devoted 
lanni  had  gathered  flowers  for  the  occasion  and  had 
made  everything  ready  for  our  departure.  We  felt 
dismal  enough  at  having  to  change  our  camp  dresses 
for  our  travelling  clothes,  and  gloves  and  hats  seemed 
equally  odious;  but  at  Vido  one  could  not  be  un- 
happy long  about  anything,  and  even  at  parting  one 
must,  smile.  So  I  waited  till  the  others  had  gone 
down  to  the  shore;  then,  pulling  a  last  bunch  of 
cyclamen  and  daisies,  I  ran  to  the  boats." 


CORFU 
I 

Twenty-five  years  ago  I  had  the  sharp  zest  of  the 
explorer.  It  whets  one's  curiosity  to  a  feather-edge 
to  enter  a  country  which,  so  far  as  modern  civiHzation 
is  concerned,  is  devoid  of  a  past;  where  there  are 
no  works  of  man  except  the  few  traces  of  nomadic 
Indian  occupancy  and  the  only  history  revealed  is 
that  written  by  the  great  forces  of  Nature.  Thus 
it  was  very  interesting  to  enter  the  Black  Hills  with 
Custer  in  1874;  to  penetrate  a  country  unmapped 
and  unnamed ;  to  see  washed  out  the  first  thimble- 
ful of  gold ;  to  plant  the  standard  of  nationality  and 
civiHzation  on  a  lofty  height  and  listen  to  strains 
of  patriotic  music  resounding  for  the  first  time 
through  those  silent  hills.  We  were  the  harbingers 
of  a  new  civilization.  The  practical  question  to  the 
enthusiastic  miner  was,  "  Where  shall  I  stake  my 
claim?" 

There  is  another  zest,  more  delicate  but  not  less 
keen.  It  is  the  zest  of  the  mythologist,  the  archaeol- 
ogist, the  philologist  and  the  student  of  letters  whose 
interest  in  a  country  is  heightened  by  its  long 
past,  the  mellowed  accretions  of  myth,  tradition  and 
language,  its  rich  treasures  of  art  and  the  resplendent 
glow  of  imaginative  literature  which  invests  it  like  a 
halo.     That  is  the  difference  between  the  Black  Hills 


'^'  f-y» 


ISLES  25 


and  Greece.     Greece  was  an  illuminated  palimpsest, 
the  Black  Hills  a  blank  page. 

There  are  two  ways  of  entering  Greece.  You  may- 
sail  directly  to  the  Piraeus,  the  port  of  Athens,  and 
come  at  once  under  the  spell  of  Propylaea  and  Par- 
thenon. That  is  to  enter  by  the  front  door.  Or 
you  may  land  at  Corfu,  and  go  from  one  to  another 
of  the  Ionian  Islands.  That  is  to  go  through  the 
back  lane  of  Homeric  tradition.  When  I  went  to 
Greece,  I  determined,  if  possible,  to  enter  by  the 
portal  of  the  Odyssey,  and  to  leave  by  the  portal 
of  the  Iliad.  If  I  had  lived  in  the  Orient,  I  should 
have  reversed  the  programme;  but,  living  in  the 
Occident,  it  was  easier  to  read  the  second  story  first. 
The  centre  of  the  Odyssey  is  Ithaca;  the  centre  of 
the  Iliad  is  Troy.  In  going  from  one  to  the  other, 
my  trip  included  nearly  all  the  most  important  isles 
and  shrines  of  Greece. 

Hardly  less  important  than  Ithaca  in  the  Odyssey, 
and  more  fascinating  in  charm  of  incident  and  beauty 
of  description,  is  the  land  of  the  Phaeacians,  the  an- 
cient Scheria.  The  island  and  its  inhabitants  are 
invested  with  a  certain  mythical  and  superhuman 
character,  and  the  poet  gives  full  rein  to  his  imagina- 
tion in  describing  its  marvellous  fertility  and  beauty. 
It  is  the  island  which  tradition,  rightly  or  wrongly, 
has  identified  with  the  modern  Corfu.  As  we  entered 
the  harbor  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  sailing  into  mythic 
waters.     But  the  captain  sails  by  a  modern  chart. 

Of  the  seven  Ionian  Islands,  Corfu,  called  by  the 
Greeks  Kerkyra,  is  the  largest  and  the  most  impor- 
tant. It  holds,  too,  the  palm  for  beauty  and  fertility. 
It  has  an  area  of  422  square  miles  and  a  population 


26  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

of  25,000  souls.  Its  veritable  history  can  be  traced 
back  to  the  settlement  of  a  Corinthian  colony  there, 
734  B.  C.  As  in  our  own  history,  the  colony  soon 
quarrelled  with  the  mother  country.  In  655  B.  C, 
the  Corcyraeans,  as  they  were  called,  beat  the  Corin- 
thians in  a  naval  battle.  The  island  took  the  part  of 
Athens  in  the  Peloponnesian  War.  Later  it  passed 
into  the  hands  of  the  Romans.  When  the  Crusaders 
insanely  dismembered  the  Byzantine  Empire,  this 
island  jewel  dropped  easily  into  the  hands  of  Venice, 
and  though  the  Neapolitan  kings  secured  it  for  a 
hundred  years,  and  the  Turks  besieged  it  twice,  the 
Venetians  ruled  it  until  the  beginning  of  this  cen- 
tury. Their  occupation  and  that  of  the  Neapolitans 
covered  a  period  of  six  centuries.  The  French 
secured  possession  for  seven  years,  from  1807  to 
1 8 14.  For  forty-eight  years  thereafter,  until  1863,  it 
formed  one  of  the  seven  Ionian  Islands  grouped  into  a 
State  under  the  protection  of  Great  Britain.  In  1863, 
when  King  George  was  called  to  the  throne  of  Greece, 
the  desire  for  political  union  v/ith  that  country  was  so 
strong,  as  expressed  by  a  vote  of  their  people,  that 
England  gave  up  her  protectorate,  and  the  Ionian 
Islands  thenceforth  became  a  part  of  the  kingdon: 
of  Greece. 

Here,  in  brief  outHne,  are  the  epochs  in  the  history 
of  Corfu.  The  charm  of  the  island  lies  in  its  phys- 
ical beauty,  its  halo  of  tradition  and  the  picturesque 
and  archaic  features  of  its  modern  life. 

If  one  wished  to  settle  down  into  the  simple  luxu- 
ries of  physical  existence,  I  know  not  where  he  could 
find  them  more  perfectly  combined  than  on  this 
island.      No   fickleness   of    nature    has    marked    its 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  2/ 

changing  fortunes.  The  same  clear  sky,  balmy  air, 
refulgent  sun  and  glorious  prospects  abide  here  as 
in  the  days  of  Homer.  The  fertility  of  the  soil  is 
remarkable.  In  the  sense  in  which  we  speak  of  it  in 
the  latitude  of  Boston,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  win- 
ter in  Corfu.  The  snow  falls  on  the  Albanian  moun- 
tains, or  on  the  head  of  Monte  San  Salvatore,  3,CX)0 
feet  high,  but  never  whitens  the  streets  of  Corfu. 
Flowers  bloom  all  the  year  round.  The  fields  in 
November  are  gay  with  English  daisies  and  cyclamen 
and  heather,  and  we  pick  crocuses,  snowdrops  and 
chrysanthemums.  Great  walls  of  cactus  and  hedges 
of  aloes  run  along  the  roadsides.  There  are  vast 
groves  of  olives,  some  of  them  of  great  age.  The 
five  hundred  years  claimed  for  them  may  not  be 
theirs ;  but  it  is  easy  to  believe  that  they  have  out- 
lived centuries.  It  is  estimated  that  there  are  four 
million  olive-trees  on  the  island ;  and  nowhere  else 
have  I  seen  such  beautiful  growths  of  this  historic 
tree.  There  are  fine  groves  of  oranges,  lemons 
and  figs,  and  the  vineyards  of  Corfu  send  wine 
to  France,  Italy  and  elsewhere.  Bananas,  palms, 
magnolias  and  the  eucalyptus  flourish  in  the  gar- 
dens. Few  places  are  more  kindly  favored  oy 
nature  with  a  generous  soil,  a  genial  and  lovely 
prospect. 

To  one  who  has  been  reared  in  the  popular  or 
academic  fiction  that  Greek  is  a  dead  language,  it 
is  curiously  exhilarating  to  land  in  Corfu  and  find 
it  really  alive.  It  refuses  to  be  bound  in  the  cere- 
ments of  the  academic  pronunciation,  to  be  immured 
in  grammars  or  text-books ;  it  is  as  wing-worded  as 
when  it  escaped  the  barriers  of  Homeric  teeth.     It  is 


28  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

not  too  fine  for  common  use.  It  is  the  language  of 
bootblacks  and  hack-drivers,  as  well  as  of  poets  and 
historians ;  its  vocabulary  is  conspicuously  displayed 
in  shop  signs,  bills  of  fare,  public  notices  and  the 
names  of  streets.  If  he  has  any  of  his  old  college 
Greek  in  his  brain,  now  is  the  time  for  the  traveller 
to  get  it  out  and  burnish  it  up.  Still  more  fortunate 
is  he  if  he  has  taken  time  by  the  forelock  and  pre- 
pared for  this  trip  by  acquiring  some  knowledge  of 
modern  Greek,  which  is  best  described  by  Geldart  as 
*'  old  Greek  made  easy."  It  is  nonsense  to  treat 
Greek  as  if  it  were  a  dead  language.  It  is  living  in 
the  speech,  journalism  and  literature  of  the  Greeks 
of  to-day,  just  as  Chaucer  is  living  in  the  speech, 
journalism  and  literature  of  the  English  people. 
The  letters,  the  accents,  are  the  same.  The  old 
Greek  has  changed  its  form  in  modern  usage.  It  is 
simpler,  less  accurate,  less  rich  in  moods  and  inflec- 
tions ;  but  it  is,  historically,  essentially  the  same  lan- 
guage. One  may  open  his  Homer  and  pick  out  on 
every  page  words  that  are  in  common  usage  to  day, 
after  three  thousand  years  of  currency.  The  univer- 
sal daily  greeting  ^aipert  is  Homeric.  The  resem- 
blance to  the  New  Testament  Greek  is  remarkable. 
The  Greek  Church  has  done  much  to  preserve  the 
vitality  of  the  language,  for  the  New  Testament  is 
used  in  all  the  services  in  the  old  Greek,  and  children 
say  the  Lord's  Prayer  by  heart  just  as  it  stands  in 
Matthew. 

"  Never  before,"  said  Mavilla,  *'  had  Greek  '  sight 
translation '  been  half  so  interesting,  or  practical,  as 
when  we  lingered  along  the  narrow,  crooked  streets 
of  the  little  town,  trying  to   discover  which   was   a 


THE  IONIAN   ISLES  29 

baker's  shop  and  which  a  barber's.  The  fruit  and 
candy  stalls  we  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing." 

The  streets  are  narrow,  the  esplanade  broad  and 
partly  shaded  with  trees.  The  ruins,  with  two  or 
three  exceptions,  are  not  Greek,  but  Venetian.  They 
consist  mainly  of  the  old  Venetian  forts,  one  of  which, 
Fortezza  Vecchia,  is  still  used  as  a  military  post  by 
the  Greeks.  But  for  the  visitor  the  main  interest  is 
the  magnificent  view  of  harbor,  town  and  island. 

Traditions  grow  as  luxuriantly  in  Corfu  as  olives, 
figs  and  lemons.  Some  of  them  have  a  very  inti- 
mate relation  to  the  life  and  religion  of  the  people. 
There  is  an  Homeric  tradition  and  a  Christian  tradi- 
tion. The  Homeric  tradition  is  worked  into  the 
guide-books  and  comes  down  as  a  literary  heritage. 
But  the  Christian  tradition  is  woven  into  ritual,  cere- 
mony and  procession  in  the  Greek  Church,  and  is  still 
used  to  praise  God  and  shame  the  devil.  We  had 
come  to  find  the  Homeric  trail,  but  we  could  not 
lapse  into  luxuriant  paganism  until  we  had  paid  our 
respects  to  the  lifeless  and  desiccated  remains  of  Saint 
Spiridion.  All  Saints  Day  (in  the  Greek,  not  the 
Roman  calendar),  which  was  observed  the  day  after 
we  landed,  was  a  civil,  military  and  religious  festival, 
all  the  town,  the  country-side,  the  garrison,  the 
two  brass  bands,  and  the  countless  church  officials 
joining  in  one  interminable  procession  in  honor  of 
the  patron  saint  of  the  island,  Saint  Spiridion.  One 
of  the  semi-official  lives  of  the  saint  states  that  he 
was  born  in  Cyprus  about  318  A.  D.  From  a  hum- 
ble shepherd  he  became  an  archbishop,  and  many 
stories  are  told  of  the  miracles  he  wrought.  He  died 
in  350  and  his  body  was  taken  to  Constantinople  in 


30  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

700,  where  it  remained  until  1453,  when  it  was  re- 
moved to  Corfu.  Instead  of  being  burnt  or  buried, 
it  is  sacredly  preserved  in  a  silver  coffin  decorated 
with  gold  and  jewels.  Three  times  a  year  the  body 
is  taken  out  of  the  church  and  carried  about  the 
city  in  a  palanquin  with  a  glass  case.  This  fes- 
tival, like  those  of  Easter  and  other  holy  days  in 
Greece,  is  national  and  patriotic  as  well  as  religious. 
It  brings  out  the  whole  populace  of  every  grade  and 
order,  and  the  military  solemnities  are  almost  as  con- 
spicuous as  the  sacerdotal. 

We  joined  the  waiting  crowd  at  the  door  of  Saint 
Spiridion's  Church,  standing  on  tiptoe  to  hear  mass. 
The  women  were  in  full  holiday  dress,  their  breasts 
covered  with  masses  of  golden  icons  and  heavy  gold 
chains.  Their  soft,  white  veils  were  spotless,  and 
their  velvet  bodices  and  silk  aprons  were  of  the  gay- 
est colors.  As  the  chimes  pealed  for  eleven  o'clock, 
the  procession  started  from  the  church.  In  the  van 
were  a  number  of  small  children  dressed  in  sailor 
costume.  The  civil  authorities  and  dignitaries  were 
preceded  by  banner-bearers.  Acolytes  bore  huge 
waxen  columns,  —  candles  if  you  please,  —  as  long  and 
as  stout  as  a  lamp-post.  Then  came  priests  and  bish- 
ops in  richest  garments  of  gorgeous  colors.  The  arch- 
bishop walked  close  to  the  body  of  his  ancient  and 
distinguished  forerunner;  then,  in  great  state,  came 
Saint  Spiridion  himself,  in  his  sacred  palanquin,  borne 
by  four  men,  the  body  upright,  with  head,  trunk,  and 
hands  exposed  to  view. 

*'  Poor  old  thing,"  said  Mavilla,  "  fifteen  hundred 
years  a  withered  mummy,  and  still  jolted  about  the 
city  three  times   a  year !  " 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  3 1 

The  multitude  fell  in  behind  the  troops  of  soldiers, 
and,  with  their  candles  in  their  hands,  marched  the 
whole  morning.  When  the  procession  reached  the 
square,  the  palanquin  was  placed  on  the  ground  and 
prayers  were  offered,  thanking  the  saint  for  delivering 
the  island  from  an  ancient  plague.  The  benediction 
was  pronounced  in  a  forcible  way  by  a  battery  of 
artillery. 

To  some  this  service  was  apparently  little  more 
than  a  national  festival ;  to  the  superstitious  peasants 
it  was  full  of  solemn  awe,  —  the  veneration  with  which 
they  regard  the  old  saint  amounts  to  that  bestowed 
by  their  ancestors  on  the  lesser  divinities,  —  to  others 
it  furnished  material  for  piety  and  gratitude.  One 
old  man  who  stood  near  me  in  the  square  was  deeply 
moved  and  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks.  I 
wondered  in  just  what  way  the  service  touched  his 
heart.  But  there  was  nothing  Pharisaical  in  his  tears, 
though  they  fell  on  a  street  corner. 


CORFU 
II 

But  we  had  not  come  to  Corfu  to  pay  our  respects 
to  Saint  Spiridion.  Where  were  Nausicaa  and  the 
gardens  of  Alcinoiis,  and  the  ship  of  the  Pha^acians 
which  the  gods  had  turned  to  stone?  Where  was 
the  ball  which  the  princess  had  thrown  into  the 
river  ? 

The  Phaeacian  episode  is  one  of  the  most  charming 
in  the  Odyssey;  it  is  one  of  the  most  ingenious 
devices  ever  constructed  for  bridging  a  narrative. 
Homer  —  and  here  let  me  say  that  when  I  speak  of 
Homer,  I  mean  the  man,  the  men,  or  succession  of 
men  who  wrote  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey ;  he  may 
have  been  blind,  though  I  cannot  think  he  was  born 
so ;  he  may  have  been  born  in  seven  different  cities 
or  more ;  he  may  have  been  a  succession  of  rhapso- 
dists  whose  narrative  deliquesced  into  song.  I  am 
not  given  to  dropping  into  controversy  by  discussing 
the  Homeric  question  ;  I  simply  inform  the  disputants 
that  I  recognize  their  claims  and  contentions,  and 
**  have  filed  them  for  future  consideration."  But  I 
hope  they  will  generously  permit  me  to  say  "  Homer" 
without  accusing  me  of  illiterate  partisanship  or  blank 
idiocy  —  Homer,  I  was  about  to  say,  had  adroitly 
brought  his  hero  Odysseus  into  a  most  embarrassing 
predicament,  a  state  of  absolute  nakedness  and  desti- 
tution in  a  strange  land.     He  had  been  for  many 


THE  IONIAN  ISLES  33 

years  on  the  fabled  isle  of  Calypso.  Through  the 
intervention  of  the  gods,  she  had  granted  him  release 
and  furnished  him  with  timber  and  tools ;  he  had  made 
a  raft,  or  boat,  and  launched  forth  on  the  deep  for 
Ithaca.  But  the  ocean  god  was  not  going  to  let  him 
off  so  easily.  In  a  tremendous  storm  the  raft  went  to 
pieces,  and  if  a  submarine  goddess  had  not  given 
him  a  life-preserver  he  would  have  perished.  He 
nears  the  shores  of  a  strange  isle.  He  is  in  danger 
of  being  dashed  to  pieces  on  its  rocky  cliffs ;  the  skin 
is  torn  from  his  hands.  At  last  he  finds  the  mouth  of 
a  river,  swims  up,  lands  on  the  bank,  heaps  together 
a  pile  of  leaves  as  a  protection  against  rheumatism, 
and,  half  dead  from  exhaustion,  sinks  into  a  profound 
slumber. 

Now,  how  is  Homer  to  get  him  out  of  this  naked 
pauperism  and  introduce  him  once  more  into  organ- 
ized and  reputable  society?  Of  course  he  had  the 
whole  pantheon  of  gods  at  his  disposal  and  could 
use  the  deus  ex  machina  whenever  he  wished.  Noth- 
ing could  have  been  easier  than  to  ask  Athene  to 
come  down,  wake  up  the  hero  and  give  him  a  new 
suit  of  clothes.  She  does  supply  him  from  her 
wardrobe  on  one  occasion.  But  as  a  general  thing 
Homer  does  not  care  to  drag  in  the  gods  by  the 
ears.  He  is  more  fond  of  using  them  to  give  impulse 
and  direction  to  human  action.  What,  then,  is  the 
ingenious  device  he  uses  to  wake  up  and  clothe  his 
hero  ?  The  laughing  music,  the  playful  scream  of  a 
girl's  voice. 

Nausicaa,  a  beautiful  Diana-like  princess,  upon 
whose  charms  Homer  loves  to  dilate,  is  sleeping  in 
her  chamber  in  the  palace  of  King  Alcinoiis^   her 

3 


34  THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

father.  The  goddess  Athene  comes  to  her,  —  not  even 
here,  however,  with  direct  address,  but  in  the  form  of 
one  of  her  handmaids,  who  chides  her  for  sleeping 
when  she  ought  to  be  up  and  having  a  care  for  her 
household.  She  reminds  her  of  the  washing  that 
must  be  done  for  her  father  that  he  may  appear 
respectably  among  his  counsellors,  and  for  the  bach- 
elor brothers  who  are  fond  of  going  to  the  dance. 
She  hints,  too,  about  a  day  of  marriage  for  the  girl 
herself  The  Puritan  conscience  of  the  maid  is 
aroused.  She  gets  up  and  goes  to  her  father  the 
king,  and  says,  "  Dear  papa,  may  the  servants  yoke 
the  mules  to  the  wagon,  —  the  good  one  with  the 
high  back,  —  that  I  may  go  with  the  washing  for 
you  and  my  brothers  "  (no  hint  about  the  day  of  her 
marriage,  but  the  old  man  understands  it).  He  gives 
her  his  best  high-top  wain.  The  mules  are  har- 
nessed, and  the  queen  puts  up  a  nice  luncheon.  The 
princess  takes  the  reins  and,  accompanied  by  her 
maids,  drives  with  the  clothes  to  the  washing  pools. 
When  they  get  there  the  princess  does  not  tie  her 
mules  to  a  tree  all  harnessed  and  with  the  check-rein 
up,  as  a  city-bred  girl  might  do;  she  considerately 
unharnesses  them  and  lets  them  feed  on  the  succulent 
grass.  She  and  the  maids  go  to  the  pools  and  wash 
the  clothes  with  laughing  rivalry.  Then,  while  the 
clothes  dry,  comes  the  lunch,  and  after  that  a  game 
of  ball,  the  maids  singing  as  they  play.  At  last  the 
royal  pitcher  makes  a  bad  curve  or  a  wild  throw; 
the  fielders  miss  it,  and  the  ball  falls  into  the  river. 
What  happens,  what  must  happen?  What  would  a 
bevy  of  girls  do  under  similar  circumstances  in  any 
and  every  age?     There  is  a  loud,  laughing  scream 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  35 

of  comic  despair  as  the  ball  splashes  in  the  river ! 
It  is  this  scream  which  wakes  the  sleeping  hero. 

Odysseus  behaves  with  great  propriety.  Behind 
the  shelter  of  a  thick  branch  he  appeals  to  the 
princess  for  protection.  Her  maids  are  frightened 
enough ;  but  she  maintains  her  stately  self-possession. 
She  neither  runs  from  the  salty  bushwhacker  nor 
does  she  refer  him  to  the  Charity  Organization  Soci- 
ety. She  calms  her  frightened  maids,  tosses  some 
clothes  to  the  suppliant,  and,  after  she  has  harnessed 
her  mules  to  the  high-wheeled  wain,  she  leads  the 
way  to  her  father's  home,  using  the  whip  on  the 
mules  "  with  discretion "  (Homer  was  anxious  to 
show  that  there  was  one  woman  who  did  know  how 
to  whip  a  mule).  She  only  asks  of  the  hero  that 
when  she  gets  to  the  town  he  will  keep  a  good  way 
behind  the  team,  not  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 
idle  gossips  as  they  pass  the  loungers  in  the  agora. 
Thus  she  leads  him  to  her  father's  palace  with  its 
exquisite  gardens,  concerning  whose  beauty  and  fruit- 
fulness  Homer  waxes  eloquent. 

Messrs.  Scott,  Dumas,  Van  Lennep,  Spielhagen, 
and  all  the  rest  of  you,  could  you  devise  anything 
more  ingenious,  more  natural,  or  more  artlessly  beau- 
tiful, to  get  your  hero  out  of  difficulty,  and  to  lead 
him  to  the  palace  of  a  king,  where  he  shall  be  received 
with  abundant  hospitality,  and  where  his  sojourn  shall 
furnish  a  pretext  for  telling  the  whole  history  of  his 
previous  adventures,  of  which  the  reader  was  igno- 
rant? In  the  Odyssey,  Homer  begins  in  the  middle, 
and  it  is  not  until  you  are  through  a  fourth  of  the 
volume  that  you  get  the  first  part  of  the  story.  How 
charmingly  the  episode  is  fitted  together  !    The  reader 


36  THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

has  no  suspicion  at  the  beginning  that  this  little  pleas- 
antry about  the  lusty  bachelors  going  to  the  dance, 
or  the  reference  to  the  king's  need  of  clean  linen,  has 
anything  to  do  with  Odysseus,  but  later  he  perceives 
that  had  there  been  no  men's  clothes  to  wash,  Odys- 
seus would  have  been  left  in  a  ridiculous  plight. 
Then  that  game  of  ball  is  so  spontaneous,  with  the 
wild  throw  and  the  bad  fielding,  —  which  any  college 
boy  will  condone  in  a  club  of  girls,  —  leading  to 
that  explosive  scream;  it  is  all  so  artless  and  so 
modern  that  it  might  have  happened  yesterday.  If 
you  do  not  think  so,  read  it  over  in  the  charming 
translation  of  Professor  Palmer  in  Book  VI.  of  the 
Odyssey. 

It  was  this  Nausicaa  and  her  beautiful  maids,  —  so 
much  more  interesting  than  the  wizened  body  of 
Saint  Spiridion,  —  it  was  this  fabled  garden  of  Alcinous 
that  I  was  seeking  to  find.  I  was  half  confident  that 
if  I  could  only  put  a  spade  somewhere  near  the 
shore  where  Odysseus  landed  I  might,  perhaps,  find 
buried  in  the  sand  the  ball  which  the  princess  had 
thrown.  What  a  magnificent  trophy  that  would  be  ! 
I  should  be  made  an  honorary  member  of  every  col- 
lege ball  team  in  the  country. 

The  garden  of  Alcinous,  teeming  with  luscious  fruit, 
is  not  difficult  to  find.  The  garden  of  the  present 
king  might  rival  it  in  fruitfulness.  And  is  there  not  a 
street  named  after  Alcinous,  and  is  it  not  the  site  of 
the  famous  palace  on  a  hill  overlooking  the  sea?  We 
rode  thither  from  the  city,  winding  past  King  George's 
beautiful  garden,  into  which  we  looked  from  our  open 
carriage.  At  the  roadside  were  groups  of  dark-eyed 
children   with   bunches    of    flowers   and    clusters    of 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  37 

oranges  which  they  plucked  from  the  walls.  They 
flung  their  spoils  into  the  carriages,  and  we  tossed  a 
few  coins  into  the  dusty  road. 

"Not  a  gleam  of  the  bronze  doors  of  Alcinoiis," 
says  Mavilla,  ''  shone  through  the  trees  on  the  hill- 
top, but  Imagination  restored  all  in  more  than  the 
original  splendor.  Although  we  fancied  we  could 
hear  girlish  laughter  ringing  through  the  olive  grove, 
and  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  white  arms  in  the  surf  on 
the  beach  below,  yet  we  did  not  find  Nausicaa. 
Nevertheless,  the  walk  to  the  crest  well  repaid  us, 
for  there  we  had  the  whole  world  at  our  feet,  —  a 
sunny,  flowery  little  world  amid  seas.  There  were 
garden  valleys,  little  villages  straggling  up  the 
wooded  slopes,  and  bold  hills  dropping  abruptly 
into    the    sea." 

We  drove  along  through  the  centre  of  the  penin- 
sula to  the  one-gun  battery,  the  lake  of  Kalikiopoulo 
on  our  right,  the  sea  beyond  the  hills  to  the  left. 
The  view  from  the  gun  battery  at  the  extreme  point 
of  the  peninsula  is  charming.  If  Homer  tells  the 
truth,  the  ship  of  the  Phaeacians  who  were  kind 
enough  to  take  Odysseus  to  Ithaca,  was  turned  into 
stone  by  angry  Poseidon  when  they  came  back.  And 
if  tradition  tells  the  truth,  the  little  island  before  us 
was  originally  the  old  ship.  But  elsewhere  there  is 
another  island  claimant  for  this  honor,  and  I  admit 
that  I  am  not  enough  of  a  naval  architect  to  decide 
between  them.  The  question  occurs,  also,  whether 
the  mouth  of  this  bay  was  the  place  where  Odysseus 
landed.  If  so,  where  were  the  rocky  cliffs  against 
which  he  was  in  danger  of  being  dashed  ?  Mr.  Still- 
man,  in  his  charming  book  *'  On  the  Track  of  Odys- 


33  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

seus,"  has  discussed  the  question  in  detail,  and  has 
found  elsewhere  the  rocky  cliffs.  But  a  work  so  highly 
mythical  and  imaginative  as  the  Odyssey,  though  so 
true  to  life  and  nature,  cannot  be  reduced  to  exact 
bounds  of  topography  or  geography.  It  is  not  Hkely 
that  any  island,  starting  as  the  basis  of  a  tradition  or 
story,  would  preserve  its  configuration  wholly  after 
floating  in  the  warm  imagination  of  the  rhapsodists. 
Instead  of  making  the  story  conform  to  the  topog- 
raphy, the  topography  would  be  made  to  conform  to 
the  story.  More  accuracy  is  demanded  of  the  modern 
historical  novelist,  but  how  easy  to  find  slips  and  an- 
achronisms in  description  !  In  his  ''  Chevalier  de  la 
Maison  Rouge,"  Dumas  has  given  a  description  of  the 
Conciergerie  at  Paris.  As  I  tried  not  long  since  to  fit 
the  story  to  the  prison,  my  guide  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders and  said,  "  When  Dumas  did  not  find  what  he 
wanted  he  made  it."  I  suspect  Homer  did  the  same. 
The  literary  traveller  on  the  trail  of  Homer  must  not 
harden  into  an  archaeological  hteralist.  He  must  keep 
his  own  imagination  fluent  and  sympathetic  or  he  will 
miss  that  of  the  poet.  Later  on,  at  Tiryns,  Mycenae, 
and  at  Troy,  it  will  be  well  worth  while  to  remember 
how  much  of  fact  and  history  have  been  brought  to 
light  from  taking  the  truth  of  the  Homeric  narrative 
for  granted.  But  for  the  Island  of  Scheria  we  cannot 
solidify  the  fluent,  misty,  auroral  tradition.  All  that 
is  needed  is  to  find  an  island  which  might  furnish  in 
fertility,  beauty,  clime,  and  general  topography  the 
conditions  necessary  for  the  Phaeacian  episode,  and 
tradition  was  evidently  satisfied  that  Corfu  fulfilled 
them. 

I  was  not  willing  to  leave  Corfu  without  an  effort  to 


^^^^^H^*i 

1 

t 
J 

1                       ^ 

'\^*i 

;:  m- 

THE  IONIAN  ISLES  39 

see  Nausicaa.  I  had  no  desire  to  see  her  mummified  in 
a  coffin  like  Saint  Spiridion.  I  wanted  her  with  some 
life  in  her  eye  and  grace  in  her  limbs.  Is  it  unreas- 
onable to  ask  a  girl  to  keep  her  youth  for  twenty-five 
or  thirty  centuries?  If  the  fountain  of  perpetual 
youth  is  to  be  found  anywhere,  is  it  not  in  this  land 
of  fruit  and  flowers? 

We  applied  at  the  old  residence,  but  the  princess 
had  moved.  The  garden  was  blooming,  but  where 
was  the  maid  ?  I  felt  confident  that  we  must  go  to 
some  of  the  wash  pools  to  find  her.  Gastouri,  a 
suburb  of  the  town,  is  renowned  for  the  beauty  of  its 
women,  —  why  not  there  ?  Mavilla  declares  that  *'  the 
drives  on  the  island  of  Corfu  are  beyond  the  power 
of  pen  or  camera,"  which  may  be  a  gentle  hint  to  me 
that  /  must  not  attempt  to  describe  them.  '*  Even 
the  warmth  of  the  painter's  brush  is  unsatisfactory. 
The  sweetness  of  the  air,  the  delicious  heat  of  the 
November  sun,  and  the  fascination  of  being  there  are 
inseparable."  Nevertheless,  Mavilla  would  have  been 
sorry  enough  if  I  had  not  taken  my  camera.  Per- 
haps the  hint,  after  all,  is  that  I  had  better  quote  from 
her  diary  instead  of  trying  to  improve  on  it: 

"We  saw  but  few  people  as  we  drove  toward  the 
Empress  of  Austria's  summer  palace.  One  or  two 
little  whitewashed  cottages  basked  in  sunny  gardens. 
Under  the  trees  by  the  roadside  were  shepherds  with 
their  flocks,  idle  and  peaceful,  as  if  Hfe  contained 
neither  care  nor  worry.  In  front  of  a  group  of  tiny 
cottages  sat  three  old  women,  spinning  in  the  sun- 
shine. I  was  sure  that  they  were  the  sister  Fates, 
and  so  looked  anxiously  for  the  shears.     Evidently 


40  THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

they  had  no  thought  of  cutting  off  our  pleasure,  for 
they  responded  cordially  to  our  salutations. 

**  Near  the  palace  is  a  little  hamlet,  where  children 
were  playing  in  the  road.  We  refused  their  entreaties 
to  take  us  through  the  grounds,  and  asked  only  for  a 
cosey  spot  for  picnicking.  As  guide,  we  chose  a  dear 
little  lame  fellow  with  a  heavenly  face.  We  left  the 
carriages  in  the  shade,  and  scrambled  up  a  steep  hill 
after  the  crippled  laddie,  who  hobbled  over  the  rocks 
with  his  one  bare  foot  and  crutch  faster  than  we  could 
with  our  walking  boots. 

**  Our  luncheon  tasted  like  nectar  and  ambrosia, 
served  on  the  slopes  of  Olympus.  For  the  time 
being,  the  American  sovereigns  decided  to  become 
immortal  gods. 

"  On  the  pinnacle  of  the  hill  above  us,  suggesting 
some  of  Diirer's  impossible  mountain  shrines,  was  a 
tiny  chapel.  To  us,  who  like  to  have  our  churches 
convenient,  of  easy  access  to  the  electric  cars,  the 
situation  of  this  chapel  was  striking.  Even  on  that 
beautiful  day,  the  wind  from  the  sea  was  so  strong 
that  it  was  hard  to  keep  our  footing  as  we  toiled  up 
the  winding  trail  over  the  rocks.  Once  there,  we  lay 
in  the  lea  of  the  Httle  stone  building,  and  picked 
crocuses  while  we  got  our  breath.  Faded  wreaths 
hung  over  the  church  door,  but  the  windows  were 
nailed  up,  and  the  rough  little  edifice  could  not  be 
entered.  Even  the  bell-rope  in  the  tiny  campanile 
was  decayed.  For  many  years  a  priest  had  lived  in 
a  cell  built  against  the  end  of  the  chapel,  but  he  had 
died,  our  little  guide  told  us,  and  this  hilltop  shrine  is 
now  used  only  on  special  occasions.  But  we  had 
come  to  see  the  shrines,  and  this  was  one  of  them. 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  4I 

"  Whether  Gastouri  ran  down  to  the  valley  or  strug- 
gled up  the  hill,  it  matters  not,  for  now  it  is  just  half 
way.  Our  angel-faced  guide  swung  himself  out  of 
the  carriage  in  front  of  a  rose-wreathed  cottage,  and 
smilingly  said, — 

"  *  This  is  my  home ;  down  there  is  Gastouri.* 

"  We  went  down  afoot,  for  the  cobble-paved  alleys 
were  so  steep  that  even  mules  are  of  little  use  in 
Gastouri.  Each  house  looks  down  on  the  roof  of  the 
one  below;  so  the  doings  of  every  household  are 
carefully  supervised.  The  highest  building  was  a 
real  country  store,  with  the  usual  post-office,  tobacco, 
candy,  and  loungers.  A  few  of  the  houses  had  court- 
yards, where  women  sat  combing  one  another's  hair, 
and  wreathing  it  about  their  heads,  while  the  children 
and  the  cats  played  around.  Where  the  houses 
opened  directly  on  the  alley,  the  women  were  spin- 
ning in  the  open  doorway.  They  all  had  a  pleasant 
word  for  us,  especially  if  we  noticed  their  children  — 
the  dear  roly-poly  little  things !  At  Gastouri  more 
than  elsewhere  in  Corfu  one  sees  the  traces  of  Italian 
blood,  and  the  mixture  of  the  languages  from  the 
time  of  the  Venetian  supremacy.  The  women  have 
the  beauty  and  grace  of  both  nations,  and  some  of 
them  are  the  grandest  creatures  I  have  seen. 

"  In  the  valley,  in  the  shade  of  a  colossal  plane- 
tree,  was  a  covered  v/ell.  The  earthen  roof  was 
arched,  and  looked  centuries  old.  Here  the  girls  of 
the  village  were  drawing  water  and  washing  in  the 
rough  stone  troughs  on  the  bank.  We  begged  a 
drink  from  one  pretty  creature  who  was  filling  her 
jug  from  a  tin  pail.  Then,  while  we  stood  talking 
with    the  girls  who  were  treading   the  clothes   and 


42  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

wringing  them  out,  a  queenly  figure  came  down  the 
alley. 

"  *  Look  !  '  one  whispered,  '  here  comes  Nausicaa  ! ' 
She  was  barefooted  like  the  others,  and  on  her  head 
she  carried  a  beautiful  water-jar,  which  lay  on  its  side. 
Her  poise,  her  figure,  her  coloring,  and  her  swinging 
gait  would  have  driven  an  artist  to  distraction.  She 
was  dressed  in  a  rich  costume  of  velvet  and  silk,  the 
delight  of  the  more  prosperous  peasants,  and  over 
her  masses  of  black  hair,  twisted  and  bound  with 
ribbons,  was  thrown  the  white  veil  w^orn  by  all 
women.  She  was  greeted  by  the  girls  at  the  v/ell, 
and  laughed  in  reply  herself,  without  bending  her 
stately  head.  For  us,  though,  she  had  no  word. 
She  haughtily  turned  away  when  we  wished  to  take 
her  picture,  and  filled  her  jar  at  the  well.  When  it 
was  filled  one  of  our  gentlemen  tried  to  lift  it,  but 
with  one  hand  he  could  not  easily  raise  it  from  the 
ground.  The  girl  laughed,  swung  the  jar  lightly  to 
her  head,  poised  it,  and  walked  back  up  the  lane. 

''We  turned  reluctantly  from  the  picturesque  group 
at  the  well,  for  the  long  shadows  were  already  dark- 
ening the  narrow  lanes  of  the  village.  One  of  the 
younger  girls  ran  timidly  after  us,  and  thrust  a  bunch 
of  cyclamens  into  my  hand.  I  turned  back  to  thank 
her,  and  saw  that  the  others  had  stopped  their  work, 
and  were  resting  their  jars  on  the  edge  of  the  well, 
while  they  looked  after  the  strangers  who  had  so  sud- 
denly broken  in  upon  their  peaceful  lives. 

"  Toward  evening  the  market-women  trudged 
homeward  from  the  town.  We  met  them  walking  in 
groups,  distaff  in  hand,  driving  their  sheep  before, 
or  carrying   huge   bundles  of  green   stuff  on   their 


THE  IONIAN  ISLES  43 

heads.  Sometimes  there  came  a  mule-cart,  with  a 
few  lazy  men  riding,  while  their  wives  walked  beside 
them  in  the  road,  shielding  their  eyes  from  the  level 
rays  of  the  sun.  There  was  a  flock  of  turkeys,  driven 
by  a  small  girl  who  flourished  a  dry  branch  over  the 
heads  of  her  younger  brother  and  sister,  as  well  as 
over  her  feathered  charges.  There  was  another  dear 
little  girl  leading  a  frisky  kid  by  a  cord.  He  gam- 
bolled and  pranced,  dragging  his  unwilling  mistress 
hither  and  thither,  while  the  child's  mother  walked 
sedately  beside  the  family  cow. 

*'  Nearer  the  town  we  met  a  bridal  party.  The  bride, 
dressed  in  the  accumulated  finery  of  several  genera- 
tions, rode  on  a  piUion,  with  her  arms  about  her 
handsome  husband's  waist.  The  sunset  glow  was  re- 
flected in  their  happy  faces  with  true  honeymoon 
intensity. 

"  Corfu  has  many  sides.  We  had  seen  several,  but 
had  still  to  visit  ^  the  other  side.'  There  was  another 
hillside  village,  more  rugged  and  less  picturesque 
than  Gastouri,  but  quaint  in  its  own  way.  The  chil- 
dren and  the  goats  showed  us  a  path  up  the  moun- 
tain, which  gave  us  a  wonderful  view  of  the  whole 
island,  and  the  sea  on  either  side.  The  pleasantest 
part  of  that  day's  expedition  was  the  long  drive 
through  a  different  section  of  country.  We  walked 
a  good  deal,  preferring  shade  and  flowers  afoot  to 
indolence  in  a  sunny  carriage.  I  could  never  cease 
to  marvel  at  the  olive  groves,  such  gnarled,  twisted, 
fantastic  trees,  hundreds  of  years  old,  and  yet  ever 
young.  In  their  shade  we  ate  our  luncheon,  and 
gathered  snowdrops.  We  chatted  with  the  women 
who   were    gathering   the   olives,  smiled   indulgently 


44  THE  ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

at  the  sylvan  picture  of  shepherd  and  shepherdess 
sauntering  together,  exchanged  greetings  with  a 
hunter  who  was  cutting  'cross  country,  and  stared 
curiously  at  the  snug,  white  farmhouses  barricaded 
with  hedges  of  aloes. 

"  Yes,  we  had  found  Greece,  —  olives,  figs,  palms, 
oranges,  grapes,  and  cyclamen,  —  our  dreams  were 
beginning  to  come  true.  The  Grecian  seven  by  this 
time  were  thorough  Hellenists,  but  Corfu  was  not  all, 
—  there  were  other  fairy  isles  to  visit." 


CEPHALONIA 

A  MOUNTAIN   MONASTERY 

The  Greek  coasting  steamers  are  somewhat  uncer- 
tain. You  can  never  tell  just  when  they  will  arrive 
or  depart.  The  wilfulness  of  the  managers  and  the 
wilfulness  of  the  weather  are  factors  in  this  uncer- 
tainty. Though  the  sea  was  mercifully  calm,  we  were 
twenty-four  hours  late  in  starting  from  Corfu  for 
Cephalonia.  We  boarded  the  steamer  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening.  A  beautiful  moon  turned  the  water 
into  silver,  and  a  brilliant  sunrise  burnished  it  with 
gold. 

Cephalonia  has  an  area  of  two  hundred  and  sixty 
square  miles  and  about  sixty-eight  thousand  inhabi- 
tants. The  coast  is  rugged  and  abrupt;  it  is  indeed 
a  mountain  rising  from  the  sea.  Seen  from  a  dis- 
tance, especially  from  the  south,  one  might  imagine  it 
to  be  some  vast  sea-monster  that  had  come  to  the 
surface  to  breathe,  its  arched  back  rising  high  in 
the  air.  The  loftiest  mountains  have  an  elevation  of 
five  thousand  feet.  As  early  as  the  fifth  century 
before  Christ  the  Corinthians  established  a  footing 
here.  Like  Corfu,  Cephalonia,  after  becoming  a  part 
of  the  eastern  empire,  passed  into  the  hands  of  the 
Venetians  and  the  Turks,  and  then  into  those  of 
England,  but  in   1863  reverted  to  Greece. 

Of  the  sixty-eight  thousand  inhabitants  two  only 
were  English,  and  one  of  these  was  our  devoted  friend 


46  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

and  host.  Mr.  Stretch  had  said  to  us  as  we  left  Corfu, 
"  You  will  breakfast  in  Argostoli  with  my  cousin  Alfred 
Woodley."  As  we  sailed  into  the  winding  bay  of 
this  port  we  saw  among  the  crowd  of  boats  with  their 
importunate  boatmen  a  large  yawl  manned  by  half 
a  dozen  sturdy  Greeks  whose  dark  faces  contrasted 
strongly  with  the  handsome  English  face  in  the  stern. 
Though  of  English  birth,  Mr.  Woodley  is  an  example 
of  the  cosmopolitan  relations  which  one  may  sustain 
in  these  Greek  islands.  *' Though  I  talk  English 
with  my  father,"  he  said,  "  I  always  speak  Italian 
with  my  mother,  who  came  from  Italy ;  with  my  sis- 
ter, who  was  brought  up  in  France,  I  speak  French ; 
and  to  my  brother  in  Russia  I  write  in  Greek." 

Two  sea-water  mills  are  among  the  curiosities  of 
the  island.  The  water  runs  in  from  the  sea,  passes 
through  a  deep  natural  channel  in  the  rock  and 
has  sufficient  fall  to  turn  a  large  mill  wheel.  To 
find  just  where  the  current  from  the  sea  goes  has 
baffled  investigators.  It  mysteriously  disappears  in 
the  rocky  caverns.  But  this  phenomenon  of  under- 
ground rivers  and  mysterious  channels  is  not  uncom- 
mon in  Greece.  In  former  times  two  mills  were 
worked  by  the  current;  one  is  now  abandoned  and 
the  other  is  not  regularly  used ;  but  the  water  con- 
tinues to  flow  as  of  yore  and  hides  its  course  some- 
where in  the  interior  of  the  island. 

Before  dinner,  which  was  to  be  breakfast,  we  took 
a  long  walk  by  the  shore  to  the  old  tide  mills.  The 
first  mill  was  not  running,  so  in  disgust,  hunger,  heat 
and  dust,  Mavilla  sat  down  by  the  roadside  and 
waited  for  the  more  energetic  sightseers,  who  trudged 
another   mile   to  the   second   mill.     I    mention  this 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  4/ 

because  it  was  on  this  occasion  that  she  excavated 
the  little  torso  of  which  she  is  so  proud.  "  I  was 
idly  digging,"  she  said,  ''  among  the  rocks  and  sand 
with  my  red  umbrella,  hoping  to  find  a  stray  bit  of 
pottery,  when  I  suddenly  unearthed  a  little  figure 
about  three  inches  long,  minus  head,  arms  and  legs. 
Still,  it  was  not  to  be  despised.  From  a  dismembered 
torso  Michael  Angelo  derived  his  inspiration.  Origi- 
nally the  little  figure  was  probably  a  child's  toy. 
How  much  more  touching  than  if  I  had  found 
a  broken  vase,  or  a  common  bit  of  chiselled  marble ! 
In  no  museum  have  I  ever  seen  a  torso  just  like  my 
little  treasure,  nor  do  the  archaeologists  who  have 
seen  mine  know  how  to  classify  it.  At  all  events, 
it  must  be  recognized  as  one  of  the  unexpected 
discoveries  of  the  day  !  " 

The  darkened  rooms  of  Mr.  Woodley's  rambling 
great  house  on  the  hillside  were  a  refreshing  retreat 
after  the  white  heat  of  the  sultry  village.  The  house 
was  full  of  old  pictures,  antique  furniture  and  quaint 
odds  and  ends  which  suggested  an  English  home; 
but  the  fig-trees  and  palms  in  the  court  and  the  out- 
of-door  breakfast-room  were  Oriental.  The  dinner, 
with  its  fresh  fish  and  game,  was  deHcious,  from  soup 
to  melons. 

In  the  cooler  part  of  the  afternoon  we  started  in 
two  carriages  for  a  drive  up  the  mountain  to  the  con- 
vent of  Saint  Gerasimo  and  thence  across  the  island. 
Mr.  Woodley  accompanied  us,  and  his  man-servant 
took  charge  of  the  extra  wagon  which  held  our  light 
traps. 

Cephalonia  is  an  island  of  rolling  stones.  One 
seldom  sees  such  miles  of  stone  walls  as  cross  and 


48  THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

crisscross  the  brown  hillside  vineyards.  Not  only 
is  the  land  terraced  and  graded  and  crazy-quilted 
by  these  walls,  but  there  are  piles  of  stones  in  the 
middle  of  every  field.  Hour  after  hour  we  toiled  up 
the  winding  road,  for  the  monastery  of  Saint  Gcra- 
simo  Hes  far  above  the  sea.  Windmills  crown  every 
hill-top,  currant  vines  grow  among  the  stones,  and 
hardy  olive-trees  bend  under  the  force  of  the  harsh 
mountain  winds.  There  is  little  else  to  break  the 
monotony  of  the  heights.  We  passed  no  villages  and 
almost  no  houses,  but  occasionally  we  met  a  peasant 
on  a  mule  going  down  to  the  sea  for  supplies,  or  were 
overtaken  by  some  Argostoli  pilgrim  carrying  a 
votive  offering  to  Gerasimo's  shrine.  There  were 
a  few  shepherds  with  their  flocks,  and  from  the  olive- 
trees  we  heard  the  girls  singing  unmusical  Greek 
songs  in  a  nasal  drone,  while  they  gathered  the  ripe 
fruit. 

Half-way  to  the  monastery  is  a  picturesque  and  un- 
attractive inn.  We  stopped  to  rest  our  horses  and 
let  our  drivers  refresh  themselves.  The  inn-keeper's 
wife  hospitably  invited  us  to  come  upstairs.  We 
picked  our  way  among  the  hens  which  were  scratch- 
ing on  the  earthen  floor  of  the  common  room  and 
climbed  to  the  upper  story  by  a  ladder  on  the  out- 
side. There,  in  the  only  bedroom  which  the  inn 
boasted,  the  proud  housekeeper  showed  us  the  win- 
dow-pane where  King  George  of  Greece  had  scratched 
his  name  with  a  diamond.  Leaving  the  others  to 
feign  awe  and  admiration  for  the  royal  signature, 
Mavilla  peeped  into  the  next  room.  "  It  was  a  bare 
attic,  with  bunches  of  herbs,  uncanny  dried  octopods, 
and  rude  farm  implements  hanging  from  the  rafters, 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  49 

and  on  the  floor  —  I  gasped  with  delight,  visions  of 
pantry  shelves,  plum  buns  and  fruit-cake  flashing 
through  my  mind  —  were  piles  of  dried  Zante  cur- 
rants !  As  our  apples  are  stored  at  home,  so  these  cur- 
rants were  heaped  everywhere  in  generous  profusion. 
Pleased  to  find  us  so  appreciative,  our  hostess 
straightway  filled  our  hands  and  pockets  and  hats. 
What  a  feast  we  had  !  The  supply  lasted  us  for  days, 
weeks,  months.  In  fact,  a  short  time  ago,  when  un- 
packing some  Greek  trophies,  we  found  one  of  the 
small  boy's  handkerchiefs  wound  round  a  wad  of 
Zante  currants." 

At  dusk  we  approached  the  monastery,  passing 
through  a  straggling  village  on  the  edge  of  the  pla- 
teau. An  arched  gateway  opened  into  the  convent 
courtyard,  where  a  young  priest  with  a  Christ-like 
face  was  pacing  to  and  fro  between  the  little  chapel 
and  the  big  plane-tree  in  the  centre  of  the  enclosure. 
On  the  balcony  of  one  of  the  long  buildings  sat  two 
or  three  of  the  nuns,  with  their  black  shawls  drawn 
over  their  heads.  Below  them  were  some  monks 
mending  a  farm  wagon.  As  we  drove  into  the  court- 
yard they  hospitably  welcomed  us,  and  while  the  men 
unharnessed  our  horses,  the  sisters  led  us  up  into  the 
refectory,  where  the  long  tables  were  already  lighted 
by  candles  and  antique  lamps.  The  sisters  were 
delighted  to  see  Mr.  Woodley,  who  frequently  visited 
the  convent,  and  they  chatted  together  in  rapid  vernac- 
ular Greek  which  we  could  not  begin  to  understand. 
The  supper,  which  had  been  brought  ready  cooked 
from  Argostoli,  was  spread  and  the  hospitable  nuns 
added  fresh  eggs  and  honey  to  the  feast.  Rather 
regretfully  they  withdrew  while  we  ate,  but  no  sooner 

4 


Jo  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

had  we  finished  than  they  reappeared  and  invited  us 
to  visit  their  inner  court. 

The  monastery  of  Saint  Gerasimo  is  really  a  nunnery 
with  an  abbess  and  a  few  priests  and  acolytes  who 
conduct  the  religious  services  in  the  chapel.  The 
country  people  respect  and  love  the  abbess,  or 
Mother  Superior,  as  do  the  inmates  of  the  convent, 
where  she  has  been  for  over  thirty  years.  She  lives 
in  the  main  building,  which  stands  between  the  men's 
court  and  the  women's.  The  latter  was  the  more 
interesting,  with  its  row  of  little  whitewashed  houses, 
each  having  a  bit  of  garden  under  the  windows, 
shaded  by  vines  and  fig-trees.  In  each  tiny  house 
live  two  sisters,  whose  busy  fingers  decorate  their  liv- 
ing-rooms with  embroidery,  patchwork  and  knitted 
tidies.  Some  of  the  younger  girls  were  drawing 
water  at  the  well  as  we  crossed  the  courtyard.  Sev- 
eral others  ran  out  to  peep  at  us,  holding  back  with 
shy  curiosity.  One  sister  had  been  to  France,  and 
she  was  pushed  forward  as  interpreter.  The  rest 
kept  behind  her,  clinging  to  one  another's  skirts; 
but  they  soon  lost  their  fear  and  followed  us  into 
the  chapel. 

The  monastery  is  distinguished  for  two  things,  —  the 
remains  of  Hagios  Gerasimo,  and  the  underground 
cell  in  which  he  lived.  Neither  of  them  was  particu- 
larly  attractive,  but  the  little  sisters  would  have  been 
disappointed  if  we  had  not  begged  the  privilege  of 
seeing  what  is  left  of  their  patron  saint.  To  the 
chapel  we  went,  then,  where  the  priests  and  the  little 
boys  who  drone  the  responses  were  already  gathered. 
Anastasios  the  priest  asked  us  to  write  our  Christian 
names  on  a  bit  of  paper.     Then  we  took  our  places 


TPIE  IONIAN   ISLES  5 1 

in  the  stalls,  with  the  other  worshippers,  and  service 
was  conducted  for  our  especial  benefit.  On  a  great 
shelf  built  into  the  wall  lay  what  had  once  been 
Gerasimo,  a  poor  brown  mummy,  laden  with  rings 
and  votive  jewels.  Before  his  shrine  the  priest  stood 
chanting  a  prayer.  Now  and  again  we  could  catch 
our  own  names  —  "  Guilielmos,"  '' Triantaphylle," 
"  Mavilla  "  —  as  he  presented  each  one  to  the  saint. 
Then,  when  the  introductions  were  over,  we  were 
allowed  to  step  within  the  sacred  enclosure,  and  bow 
before  his  saintship.  The  fervor  of  the  worshippers 
made  the  service  solemn,  and  even  we  Americans 
were  touched. 

The  very  small  hole  in  the  floor,  through  which  we 
had  to  wriggle  down  into  the  saint's  cell,  shows  that 
Gerasimo  must  have  been  an  abstemious  man.  How 
could  a  man  dig  a  hole  for  himself  in  the  rocks  under- 
ground, and  live  in  that  foul  dampness,  when  he 
might  have  enjoyed  God's  sunshine?  But  men 
thought  differently  four  hundred  years  ago,  and 
Gerasimo  was  considered  wise  and  holy  and  possi- 
bly clean. 

Beyond  the  plain  where  the  convent  stands  rises 
Mt.  Aenus.  The  view  from  its  summit  is  the  finest 
to  be  had  in  the  Ionian  islands.  We  planned  to  climb 
it  in  time  to  see  the  sunrise.  "  Please  have  the  mules 
ready  and  wake  us  at  three,"  we  said,  as  we  went  to 
our  rooms. 

At  three  the  convent  bells  and  the  clatter  of  hoofs 
beneath  our  windows  woke  us.  It  was  raining  hard. 
No  sunrise,  no  mountain  !  We  mournfully  gathered 
in  the  refectory  to  decide  what  we  should  do. 

••  In  the  first  place,"  said  our  practical  escort,  **  let's 


52  THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

have  some  tea."  So  we  sat  around  in  the  dim  candle- 
hght  and  held  an  informal  '*  afternoon  tea"  at  3  A.  M. 
on  Surrday.  Glimmering  through  the  rain  we  could 
see  the  lights  of  the  chapel,  where  the  monks  and  the 
sisters  were  already  at  mass.  We  splashed  across 
the  court  and  sHpped  in  behind  the  pillars.  The  ser- 
vice was  antiphonal.  On  one  side  stood  a  young 
priest  who  was  reading  the  liturgy  at  a  rate  which 
would  have  made  the  most  rapid  phonograph  green 
with  envy.  What  a  cataract  of  words !  And  all  the 
time  his  eyes  were  scarcely  on  the  book ;  one  of  them 
at  least  was  busy  scanning  the  new-comers.  It  is 
not  a  common  event  to  have  such  a  party  at  early 
morning  prayers.  On  the  other  side  stood  an  old 
priest  at  a  second  reading-desk  with  a  large  illumi- 
nated prayer-book  which  now  and  then  caught  the 
drippings  of  the  candle  he  held  in  his  hand.  Very 
prominent  was  the  sharp  nasal  tone  of  the  principal 
boy  as  he  sang  out,  — 


i^ 


Ky  -  rie        e      -     lei    -    son 

The  old  priest  invited  Mavilla  and  myself  to  look 
over  with  him  and  follow  the  Greek  text.  We  each 
held  a  naked  candle,  while  the  priest  kept  track  of  the 
place  with  one  of  his  fingers.  He  had  been  a  sailor 
in  his  early  days  and  had  seen  a  little  of  the  world. 
His  literal  devotion  to  the  service  did  not  prevent 
him  from  keeping  up  a  broken  conversation  with  uS; 
which  he  interjected  between  the  responses. 

"You  come  from  America?" 

"  Yes." 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  53 

"  Kyrie  eleison,  Kyrie  eleison  —  What  part?  " 

"  From  Boston." 

"  Ah  !  Kyrie  eleison,  Kyrie  eleison  —  I  was  there 
once.  It  was  many  years  ago."  Then  another  vol- 
ley of  Greek  addressed  to  Heaven,  and  suspended  at 
the  proper  pause  to  make  sure  that  his  communica- 
tions with  earth  were  not  cut  off.  The  expression 
"  Lord  have  mercy"  {Kyrie  eleison)  when  he  learned 
that  we  were  from  Boston  seemed  to  us  strangely 
inappropriate.  He  was  greatly  pleased  to  estab- 
lish this  relationship,  and  more  than  the  ordinary 
amount  of  melted  candle  dripped  upon  the  sacred 
page.  The  service  was  thoroughly  mechanical,  and 
I  did  not  see  why  a  phonograph  run  by  water  power 
would  not  have  been  as  devotional.  But  it  was  a  free 
and  novel  lesson  in  the  modern  Greek  pronunciation. 

"  I  moved  away,"  says  Mavilla,  "  and  let  the  priest 
talk  with  my  father.  The  stone  floor  was  cold,  and  I 
was  sleepy.  Two  or  three  nuns  were  nodding  in  their 
stalls;  another,  crouched  on  the  floor,  was  rocking 
back  and  forth,  throwing  up  her  hands  and  moaning. 
The  little  choir  boys  yawned,  and  pulled  each  other 
by  the  sleeves  when  it  was  time  for  their  responses. 
The  splash  of  the  rain  mingled  with  the  monotonous 
drone  of  the  priest;  the  incense  made  me  dull,  and 
the  candles  flickered  weirdly  before  my  sleepy  eyes." 

"When  will  the  service  be  over?"  I  whispered  to 
Mr.  Woodley. 

*'  In  three  hours,"  he  replied  cheerfully.  "  It  lasts 
every  morning  from  two  to  seven." 

Mavilla  gave  one  look  at  the  picturesque  two  by 
the  reading-desk  —  "  the  dark,  gray-bearded  priest 
and  the  pale  clergyman,  paler  than  ever  in  the  dim 


54  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

candle-light "  —  and  quietly  stole  back  to  bed.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  paternal  clergyman  followed. 

For  their  hospitality  the  monks  made  no  charge, 
but  accepted  with  thanks  the  contribution  we  offered. 
I  was  told  that  there  were  some  sixty  women  and 
some  twenty  men  at  this  monastery,  which  serves  as  a 
sort  of  hospital  for  the  surrounding  country,  people 
with  mental  as  well  as  physical  derangements  being 
sent  here  for  cure. 

By  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  rain  had  ceased, 
but  the  clouds  hung  heavy  over  the  mountain-peak, 
and  it  was  too  late  to  make  the  ascent.  We  decided, 
therefore,  to  drive  across  the  island  to  Samos  on  the 
east  side,  where  we  might  hire  a  sloop  for  Ithaca. 
We  said  adieu  to  the  monks  and  their  mountain 
shrine.  The  carriages  which  had  brought  us  from 
Argostoli,  on  the  west  side  of  Cephalonia,  we  had 
retained  over  night,  so  that  we  were  able  to  proceed 
directly  to  Samos  without  retracing  our  steps.  The 
ride  over  the  mountains,  from  which  the  clouds  had 
lifted,  afforded  one  of  the  grandest  views  in  the 
Ionian  Isles,  the  island  of  Zante  appearing  in  the 
south,  and  the  rocky  ridge  of  '*  far-seen "  Ithaca 
looming  up  to  the  east.  Before  noon  we  had  reached 
Samos.  Some  of  the  suitors  of  Penelope  lived  here. 
It  is  situated  in  a  beautiful  bay  on  the  strait  which 
divides  Cephalonia  from  Ithaca.  The  town  is  small 
and  has  no  such  importance  as  it  had  in  Homer's 
days,  and  probably  could  not  furnish  any  rich 
princely  suitors  to  a  modern  Penelope.  In  the 
small  village  hotel  there  were  hanging  two  pictures 
of  very  indifferent  artistic  quality,  which,  to  the  only 
Americans  on  the  island  of  Cephalonia,  were  sugges- 


THE  IONIAN  ISLES  55 

tive  of  modern  Greek  affinities.  One  was  a  picture 
of  the  Statue  of  Liberty  in  New  York  harbor,  the 
other  a  view  of  Niagara  Falls.  These  were  as  much 
of  a  surprise  to  us  as  a  picture  of  Athene  or  the 
Parthenon  would  be  in  a  remote  Montana  ranch. 
With  gratitude  and  regret  we  bade  our  generous 
friend  Mr.  Woodley  good-by,  and  after  hiring  a 
barca  set  sail  for  Ithaca. 


FAR-SEEN   ROCKY  ITHACA 

**  Far-seen  and  rocky."  These  are  adjectives  which 
the  poet  of  the  Odyssey  applied  to  this  island  three 
thousand  years  ago,  and  they  belong  to  it  still. 
They  alone  are  not  enough  to  distinguish  it  as  the 
abode  of  Odysseus ;  but  without  these  attributes  any 
island  would  claim  the  honor  in  vain.  There  are 
other  natural  features  lending  support  to  the  tradition 
which  identifies  the  island  with  the  Ithaca  of  Homer. 
Homer  is  not  reckless  or  audacious  in  statement. 
When  he  undertakes  to  describe  the  course  of  an 
arrow  or  a  spear  in  the  body  of  some  Trojan  whose 
eyes  had  been  veiled  in  death,  he  does  not  make  the 
cruel  bronze  take  an  impossible  course.  When,  like- 
wise, he  deals  with  geography,  he  does  not  create  a 
map  wholly  out  of  his  imagination.  He  uses  exist- 
ing facts,  places  and  scenery  as  the  trellis  upon  which 
to  spread  the  flower  and  fruit  of  his  tropical  yet 
simple  fancy.  He  mentions  islands  and  places,  to  be 
sure,  which  cannot  be  identified  with  any  existing 
sites ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  catalogue  of  ships 
and  places  in  the  second  book  of  the  Iliad,  even 
though  it  be  a  later  addition,  furnishes  us  with  the 
oldest  information  we  have  about  the  geography  and 
topography  of  Greece  in  that  early  time.  Though 
Homer,  individual  or  composite,  had  no  intention  of 
writing  a  book  on  geography,  he  had  no  intention  of 
ignoring  the  subject.     If  he  had  done  so,  seven  cities 


THE  IONIAN   ISLES  57 

—  Ithaca  was  one  of  them  —  would  not  have  claimed 
to  be  his  birthplace. 

The  steamers  from  Brindisi  to  Greece  stop  at  Corfu 
and  Patras ;  but  they  make  no  account  of  Ithaca.  It 
does  not  lie  in  the  pathway  of  trade.  We  were  told 
that  it  was  not  easy  to  get  there ;  that  it  would  take 
us  a  week  out  of  our  course ;  especially  that  it  was 
not  practicable  to  go  there  with  a  party  of  seven, 
four  of  whom  were  ladies,  and  one  a  seven-year-old 
boy.  But  these  ladies  and  that  boy  had  camped 
in  the  forests  of  Canada,  and  had  spent  their  first 
three  nights  on  Greek  soil  under  a  tent  of  their  own 
construction.  They  were  prepared  to  do  it  again  if 
necessary.  Had  they  not  also  read  the  Odyssey 
crossing  the  Atlantic?  And  did  they  not  long,  like 
Odysseus,  to  see  the  smoke  rise  from  his  native  land? 

But  why  go  to  Ithaca?  It  has  no  temples,  no 
great  churches,  no  paintings,  no  monuments  of  archi- 
tecture, no  sculptures,  no  ruins,  and  no  history  of 
more  than  local  interest.  Nor  has  it  any  natural 
curiosities  such  as  make  Niagara  or  the  Natural 
Bridge  famous  the  world  over.  And  yet,  in  spite  of 
this,  it  had  an  attraction  for  us  equalled  only  among 
these  isles  by  Corfu,  and  for  precisely  the  same  rea- 
son. The  fame  of  Ithaca  was  not  made  by  sword, 
trowel,  chisel,  or  brush ;  it  was  made  wholly  by  the 
pen.  Literature,  as  well  as  art  and  religion,  has  its 
shrines,  and  every  country  with  a  literature  has  them. 
They  may  be  shrines  rural  or  urban,  scenic  or  civic, 
historic,  traditional  or  mythical,  but  literature  has 
given  them  their  fame,  and  may  sometimes  be  wholly 
responsible  for  their  creation.  The  whole  scenery  of 
Scotland  has  been  tinged  by  the  genius  of  Walter 


58  THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

Scott,  as  the  peaks  and  crags  and  vales  and  meres 
of  the  Lake  District  have  felt  the  touch  of  Words- 
worth, Southey  and  Coleridge.  Paris  means  Victor 
Hugo  and  Dumas  as  well  as  Napoleon,  Richelieu 
and  the  French  kings;  and  with  all  its  wonderful 
shrines  of  religion  and  art,  Florence,  for  the  modern 
traveller,  means  Dante  and  Browning  as  well  as 
Raphael  and  Savonarola.  Has  Phidias  or  Pericles 
done  more  for  Athens  than  Socrates,  Sophocles, 
iEschylus  and  Plato?  So  Ithaca  is  a  shrine,  a  mon- 
ument of  literature ;  and  it  has  this  peculiar  interest, 
that  its  fame  lies  wholly  and  absolutely  in  this  direc- 
tion. The  Odyssey  was  built  with  Ithaca  as  one  of 
its  foundation  stones ;  but  now  it  is  Ithaca  that  rests 
on  the  Odyssey,  which  Lowell  has  said  is  the  one 
long  story  that  will  bear  continuous  reading.  It  mat- 
ters not  whether  it  deals  with  history  or  romance, 
the  story  of  the  Odyssey  will  continue  to  exert  its 
charm  and  Ithaca  will  loom  up  in  the  narrative  just 
as  it  looms  up  in  the  landscape.  The  picture  is  so 
well  fixed  in  the  mind  that  now  we  can  seek  with 
enthusiasm  for  the  easel  and  the  canvas  on  which  it 
was  painted.  So  long  as  the  Odyssey  continues  to 
be  read,  some  Ithaca  will  possess  an  interest  as  the 
home  of  its  hero  and  his  faithful  Penelope,  as  the 
abode  of  the  devoted  swineherd,  and  as  the  scene  of 
the  wanton  riot  of  the  suitors  and  their  tragic  doom. 
With  it  we  shall  connect  the  dutiful  Telemachus,  the 
aged  Laertes,  and  Argos  the  faithful  dog. 

One  of  the  constant  iterations  in  the  Odyssey,  so 
often  repeated  that  it  becomes  a  kind  of  standing 
joke,  is  the  question  addressed  to  every  new-comer 
in  Ithaca.     "  But  now,  good  stranger,  tell  me  this : 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  59 

Who  are  you,  and  whence  do  you  come ;  from  what 
land  and  city?  On  what  ship  did  you  come,  and 
how  did  sailors  bring  you  here?  Whom  do  they  call 
themselves?  "  And  then  was  added,  we  can  suppose, 
with  a  knowing  wink,  or  a  figurative  poke  in  the  rib : 
"  For  I  don't  imagine  that  you  came  on  foot !  "  Cer- 
tainly one  would  have  to  roll  back  the  sea  or  walk 
on  the  water  to  get  to  Ithaca  on  foot.  We  did 
not  make  the  attempt.  The  other  questions  are  as 
likely  to  be  put  to  a  stranger  in  Ithaca  to-day  as  they 
were  then.  Inquisitiveness  is  an  hereditary  Greek 
trait. 

Cephalonia  is  separated  from  Ithaca,  as  Homer 
informs  us,  by  a  strait  which  is  from  eight  to  ten 
miles  wide.  There  is  no  steamer  plying  between 
the  islands.  We  had  therefore,  as  already  said, 
crossed  to  the  east  side  of  Cephalonia,  and  hired  a 
small  sloop  to  take  us  over.  The  breeze  was  light, 
for  which  some  of  our  party  were  grateful.  But  the 
men  bent  to  their  oars  just  as  they  did  in  the  old 
days.  There  is  nothing  older  in  the  way  of  naviga- 
tion than  an  ash  breeze,  unless  it  be  one  of  pine  or 
poplar.  A  warm  sun  beamed  upon  us.  There  was 
no  danger  of  collision.  Ours  was  the  only  boat  vis- 
ible in  this  long  strait.  We  had  an  unobstructed 
view  of  the  west  side  of  Ithaca.  No  just  idea  of  the 
shape  of  the  island  can  be  had  from  that  side ;  but 
we  got  an  excellent  view  of  the  three  hills  or  moun- 
tains which  raise  their  backs  and,  with  a  long,  flowing 
outline,  cut  a  small  ;;/  in  the  air.  There  is  Aetos.  It 
is  only  650  feet  high,  but  it  counts  for  more  than  that 
when  seen  from  the  level  of  the  sea.  There  is  Neritos, 
only  2,600  feet  high,  but  looming  up  still  higher  as 


6o  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

we  view  it  through  the  lens  of  the  imagination.  This 
island  was  not  made  for  a  farm.  It  looks  too  hard  and 
forbidding  for  a  poem.  It  appears  to  have  been  made 
for  a  quarry,  so  stern  and  rocky  is  its  visage. 

I  had  two  guide-books  in  my  pockets.  One  was  a 
Baedeker,  the  other  was  an  Odyssey.  I  took  out 
the  Odyssey,  and  in  the  two  hours  we  were  cross- 
ing, read  all  the  allusions  to  Ithaca  which  it  con- 
tains. Homer  meant  to  tell  the  truth  about  his 
Ithaca,  and  in  some  respects  this  island  bears  out 
well  the  words  of  the  Odyssey.  "  In  Ithaca,"  he 
says,  "  there  are  no  open  runs,  no  meadows ;  a  land 
for  goats.  Not  one  of  the  islands  is  a  place  to  drive 
a  horse,  and  none  has  good  meadows  of  all  that  rest 
upon  the  sea,  Ithaca  least  of  all."  Homer,  it  is  clear, 
was  not  in  the  real-estate  business.  He  may  or  may 
not  have  been  born  on  this  island;  but  he  is  not 
advertising  property  for  sale.  He  knows  well  what 
Ithaca  lacks.  There  is  no  meadow  land  here.  The 
goats  still  climb  these  rocky  cliffs ;  and  that  it  is  pos- 
sible to  drive  a  horse  from  one  end  of  the  island  to 
the  other  on  a  single  highway  is  due  to  the  good 
roads  established  under  English  rule.  But  Homer 
could  tell,  also,  the  good  features  of  the  island. 
When  Odysseus  has  been  brought  from  Scheria  by 
night  in  a  profound  sleep  by  the  magic  boat  of  the 
Phasacians,  he  is  landed  in  the  harbor  of  Phorcys. 
When  he  wakes  he  is  so  dazed  that  he  fails  to  recog- 
nize his  native  land.  But  Athene,  who  is  perpetually 
turning  up  when  wanted,  appears  in  the  guise  of  a 
shepherd,  and  the  home-brought  wanderer  asks  her 
what  sort  of  a  land  it  is.  She  says,  "  You  are  simple, 
stranger,   or  come  from  far  away  to  ask  about  this 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  6 1 

land.  It  is  not  quite  so  nameless.  Many  men  know 
it  well,  men  dwelling  toward  the  east  and  rising  sun, 
and  those  behind  us,  also,  toward  the  darksome  west. 
It  is  a  rugged  land,  not  fit  for  driving  horses,  yet  not 
so  very  poor,  though  lacking  plains.  Grain  grows 
abundantly,  and  wine  as  well;  the  showers  are  fre- 
quent, and  the  dews  refreshing;  here  is  good  pastur- 
age for  goats  and  cattle;  trees  of  all  kinds  are  here, 
and  never-failing  springs."  ^  And  then  she  proceeds 
to  show  him  things  and  places  which  he  cannot  fail 
to  recognize. 

If  Odysseus  were  to  wake  up  here  to-day  he  would 
find  a  wire  strung  on  poles.  He  would  puzzle  his  brain 
a  little  to  know  what  it  meant.  Perhaps  Athene,  who, 
according  to  Roscher  and  others,  is  a  personification 
of  the  lightning,  would  be  kind  enough  to  tell  him 
that  it  is  a  modern  pathway  for  her  swift  feet,  and 
that  on  it  she  could  flash  across  the  land  or  dart 
under  the  sea.  It  is  one  form  in  which  the  goddess 
still  lives  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  she  served  us 
a  good  turn  on  our  way  to  Ithaca.  I  did  not  forget, 
before  leaving  Cephalonia,  that  Ithaca  had  a  poor 
reputation  for  horses,  and  asked  what  would  be  the 
possibility  of  getting  two  carriages.  "  There  are  just 
two  on  the  island,"  was  the  response,  "  but  we  can 
send  a  despatch  from  Samos  by  cable  to  Ithaca  to 
have  these  carriages  meet  you  at  Pissaeto." 

The  telegram  was  sent,  and  by  the  time  we  were 
ready  to  land  in  the  pretty  little  cove  at  Pissaeto  the 
carriages  from  the  town,  four  miles  away,  were  wait- 
ing for  us,  and  we  thanked  Athene  for  her  electrical 
benignity  and  service. 

1  Palmer's  translation. 


62  THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

The  carriages  seemed  as  archaic  as  the  island  it- 
self, and  might  have  passed  for  chariots  captured  by 
Odysseus  in  the  Trojan  War.  It  was  not  necessary 
to  look  at  the  horses'  teeth  to  be  impressed  with 
their  age.  These  steeds  would  not  have  cut  much  of 
a  figure  on  a  Parthenon  frieze.  **  If  our  horses  were 
not  speedy,"  says  Mavilla,  "  there  was  exhilaration  in 
the  thought  that  thty  were  the  only  ones  on  the 
island,  and  that  our  frail  carriages  were  all  that  kings 
could  command  in  Ithaca." 

Putting  the  ladies  in  the  carriages,  I  started  on  foot 
from  the  little  cove,  which  is  entirely  devoid  of  set- 
tlement, the  real  harbor  of  Ithaca  being  on  the  east 
side.  Up  the  steep  hill  one  can  walk  faster  than  he 
can  ride.  In  about  half  an  hour  we  came  to  the  little 
chapel  of  St.  George,  from  which  a  rugged  pathway 
leads  to  the  top  of  Aetos.  There  was  just  time  to 
reach  the  summit  and  get  a  good  view  before  sunset, 
and  I  wanted  to  make  sure  of  the  view  and  to  pay  a 
visit  to  "  Odysseus'  Castle."  There  are  some  Greeks 
who  live  on  the  principle  of  not  doing  to-day  what 
they  can  put  off  till  to-morrow.  Our  charioteer  was 
one  of  them.  I  took  out  my  watch,  and  then  pointed 
to  the  top  of  Aetos. 

"  Aijpcov,  avpiou  "  (to-morrow,  to-morrow),  said  the 
driver,  to  which  I  replied,  with  even  more  emphasis, 
"  'Lrj/jLepov,  crrjfjLepov  "  (to-day,  to-day). 

But  it  was  not  worth  while  to  keep  the  carriages 
and  the  rest  of  the  party  waiting.  It  was  agreed, 
therefore,  that  the  others  should  drive  on  to  Vathy, 
the  port  of  Ithaca,  and  that  I  should  make  the  ascent 
to  the  so-called  castle  and  the  summit  of  Aetos,  and 
rejoin  them  at  Vathy,  the  town  three  miles  away. 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  63 

The  rest  of  the  party  looked  askance  at  the  abrupt 
height,  and,  without  going  up,  Mavilla  was  sure  that 
Odysseus  had  never  lived  there.  *'  Homer,"  she  said, 
"  would  have  described  the  rocky  ascent  in  detail  if 
the  palace  had  stood  on  any  such  eminence."  But 
the  local  tradition  found  a  defender  in  Eumaeus  him- 
self. He  had  served  as  guide  to  Schliemann,  and  he 
offered  to  guide  me.  He  could  speak  no  word  of 
English  or  French,  and  his  Greek  was  more  modern 
than  that  of  Homer.  He  returned,  however,  my 
Homeric  greeting  x^^P^'^^>  ^^^  there  is,  indeed, 
no  part  of  Greece  where  this  Homeric  salutation  is 
not  in  vogue.  His  dress  was  modern  in  form,  but 
ancient  enough  in  substance.  His  coat  and  trousers 
were  of  European  cut,  but  when  I  looked  at  his  feet 
I  was  sure  it  was  the  old  swineherd.  Except  for  the 
wear  and  tear  of  three  thousand  years,  the  sandals  he 
wore,  cut  out  of  leather  and  tied  with  thongs,  might 
have  been  those  which  the  swineherd  was  making 
about  the  time  Odysseus  came  home.  He  had 
changed  his  occupation  from  swineherd  to  goatherd, 
and  there  was  a  sensible  diminution  in  his  affection 
for  his  master,  since  he  confided  to  me  that  he  thought 
Odysseus  was  a  rascal  (jravovpyof;^  and  never  wanted 
to  come  back. 

It  is  a  stiff"  climb  to  the  summit,  and  I  had  but  a 
short  time  to  make  it.  The  old  king  must  have  been 
stout  of  leg  if  he  came  up  here.  The  signs  of  an 
ancient  stronghold  are  beyond  doubt  in  the  old 
Cyclopean  walls,  in  which  the  natural  rock  has  been 
used  to  the  best  advantage.  A  cavity  ten  feet  in 
diameter  and  eighteen  feet  deep  has  been  walled 
about  by  heavy  stones,  perhaps  for  a  cistern. 


64  THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

There  are  other  traces  of  a  foundation  and  pieces 
of  wall  here  and  there,  indicating  some  larger  fortifi- 
cation commanding  this  pass.  Its  style  and  character 
suggest  great  antiquity.  Gell  and  Schliemann  have 
both  assumed  that  this  was  the  site  of  the  castle  of 
Odysseus.  Schliemann,  in  one  of  his  earliest  ven- 
tures in  excavation,  tried  to  prove  his  claim  with  the 
spade,  but  with  small  result.  It  is  fortunate  that  his 
failure  at  Ithaca  did  not  deter  him  from  the  later  ex- 
cavations, so  rich  and  fruitful,  at  Mycenae  and  Troy. 
It  is  well-nigh  impossible  to  reconcile  the  topography 
of  the  town  of  Ithaca  in  the  Odyssey  with  the  situa- 
tion of  this  so-called  castle.  I  got  Eumseus  to  stand 
in  the  ruins  while  I  took  a  photograph  of  him,  but 
even  his  ancient  face  —  surmounted  by  a  European 
cap  instead  of  one  of  the  traditional  sugar-loaf  Odys- 
sean  cut  —  could  not  invest  the  site  with  much  of 
probabihty. 

The  view  from  the  summit  was  well  worth  the 
steep  climb.  No  other  outlook  can  give  an  ade- 
quate idea  of  the  shape  of  Ithaca.  On  the  east  side 
the  Gulf  of  Molo  is  so  deep  that  it  nearly  cuts  the 
island  in  two.  As  you  stand  on  the  narrow,  lofty 
ridge,  you  have  a  fine  view  of  Cephalonia  and  the 
bay  of  Samos  to  the  west;  to  the  north  you  see 
the  Leucadian  promontory,  the  southern  end  of  Santa 
Maura,  whence  Sappho  made  her  traditional  leap; 
while  to  the  east  are  the  island  of  Atakos  and  the 
mountains  of  Acarnania.  It  was  a  beautiful,  peace- 
ful scene.  I  succeeded  in  taking  a  photograph  which 
gives  a  good  idea  of  the  topography  of  the  northern 
part  of  the  island  and  the  narrow  spine  of  the  isthmus 
which  holds  it  together.     Looking  down  from  this 


THE  IONIAN   ISLES  6$ 

height  the  eye  of  the  camera  caught  the  water  of  the 
Gulf  of  Molo  on  one  side,  and  the  water  of  the  strait 
on  the  other,  while  the  rugged  mountain  ridge  arched 
its  back  between  them.  I  lingered  on  the  summit 
till  the  sun  went  down,  and  then,  with  the  goatherd, 
made  my  way  to  the  town  of  Vathy,  which  was  not 
reached  till  after  dark.  A  hardy  fisherman  and  his 
boy  joined  us  on  our  way,  and  were  much  impressed 
with  what  I  told  them  of  the  physical  greatness  of 
America  as  compared  with   Ithaca. 

The  ladies,  with  their  youthful  escort,  had  already 
found  accommodation  in  a  little  Greek  inn  bearing 
the  lofty  name  of  Parnassus.  It  is  pretty  hard  for 
any  hotel  to  live  up  to  the  majestic  pretension  of  this 
name,  and  if  Spiridion,  my  worthy  host,  came  short 
of  it,  I  am  bound  to  say  that  the  prices  were  not  so 
high  as  the  mountain.  A  rickety  outside  stairway 
led  to  the  four  rooms  of  the  inn.  Below  was  the 
kitchen,  where  the  modern  Spiridion  and  his  wife 
lived,  and  cooked  potatoes  and  fish,  —  fish  and  po- 
tatoes, potatoes  and  fish,  hot  for  breakfast,  tepid  for 
dinner,  and  cold  for  supper. 

In  one  of  the  tiny  bedrooms  hung  a  bit  of  a  mir- 
ror. This  was  the  hotel  register,  where  the  six  or 
eight  visitors  of  the  last  ten  years  had  stuck  their 
visiting  cards.  We  studied  them  with  interest.  There 
were  some  German  professors,  and  an  English  lord 
or  two,  who  had  anchored  their  yachts  in  the  shel- 
tered harbor,  where  fifty  vessels  could  find  protection ; 
but  not  an  American  name  among  them.  Many  a 
year  it  will  be  before  seven  Americans  take  Vathy  by 
storm  again.  Our  blessings  are  with  them  when  they 
go !     Let  them  not  expect  to  have  the  three  bed- 

5 


66  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

rooms  to  themselves.  Let  them  not  delude  them- 
selves with  a  vision  of  a  picturesque  inn  where  a 
dainty  Greek  maiden  in  becoming  costume  serves 
nectar  and  ambrosia.  Yet  Spiridion's  wife,  though 
neither  young  nor  attractive,  was  solicitous  about  our 
meals.  With  great  care  she  pretended  to  inquire  as 
to  the  hours  when  we  would  have  them  served,  —  as 
if  it  made  any  difference,  when  we  knew  that  the 
food  was  all  cooked  in  one  batch,  and  doled  out  to 
us  at  regular  intervals. 

The  next  day  a  pouring  rain  was  discouraging 
to  archaeological  investigation.  But  Paul  and  my- 
self did  not  mean  to  have  our  enthusiasm  damp- 
ened. We  planned  to  go  to  the  north  of  the  island 
to  see  if  the  topography  could  any  more  easily 
be  reconciled  to  the  story.  One  of  the  tires  of  the 
chariot  was  nearly  off  to  start  with.  To  all  ap- 
pearances it  would  not  last  fifteen  minutes,  and  we 
had  a  round  trip  of  from  five  to  six  hours  ahead  of 
us.  But  there  was  no  telling  how  many  journeys  it 
had  made  in  that  condition,  and  the  driver's  confi- 
dence seemed  to  be  based  upon  its  age  and  general 
debility.  If  the  carriage  was  bad,  the  road  was  fine, 
and  now  and  then  the  clouds  lifted  to  give  us  a  view 
on  the  way  to  Stavros.  The  road  winds  around  the 
Gulf  of  Molo,  and  then  rises  in  a  zigzag  on  the 
mountain  side,  and  runs  across  the  high  *'  divide " 
or  saddle  which  separates  the  Gulf  of  Molo  from 
the  channel  of  Ithaca.  The  beautiful  view  of  the 
day  before  was  shut  out  by  the  pouring  rain.  We 
passed  through  the  little  village  of  Levke,  and 
finally,  after  a  slow,  wet  ride  of  three  hours,  a  large 
part  of   which  was   up  hill,  we   wound   round  the 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  6/ 

Bay  of  Polis,  and  reached  Stavros.  Here  we  left  our 
carriage,  and,  taking  as  a  guide  a  young  man  whom 
we  had  found  in  the  village,  we  wandered  through 
the  olive  groves  and  fertile  vineyards  to  see  if  per- 
chance we  might  find  the  aged  Laertes  among  them. 
A  woman  whom  we  met  near  the  little  church  of 
Hagios  Anastasios  showed  us  tlie  spring  of  Mela- 
nydro,  which  may  or  may  not  be  the  Arethusa  of  the 
Odyssey.  We  took  a  taste  of  its  dark  waters.  If 
only  we  could  tell  a  classical  spring  by  the  taste  or  by 
chemical  analysis  !  But  the  Odyssey  was  not  written 
in  a  laboratory  or  under  the  inspiration  of  an  hydraulic 
survey.  Then  we  went  down  the  staircase  in  the 
rock  to  the  picturesque  spot  called  "  Homer's  School," 
which  Baedeker  says  has  borne  the  name  for  the  last 
hundred  years.  The  rain  had  ceased,  and  though 
the  clouds  were  heavy,  we  got  some  idea  of  the 
beautiful  view  from  this,  one  of  the  most  charming 
spots  on  the  island. 

The  difficulties  of  identifying  modern  Ithaca  with 
the  Ithaca  of  Homer  appear,  in  the  first  place,  in  the 
situation  of  the  island  as  a  whole  and  in  its  rela- 
tion to  the  others  of  the  group.  In  the  Odyssey 
it  is  described  as  the  most  westerly  of  the  islands, 
whereas  it  lies  to  the  east  of  Cephalonia.  It  is  not 
easy  to  get  round  this  general  difficulty.  The  story 
also  requires  a  small  island  near  Ithaca,  "  a  rocky 
isle  in  the  sea,  midway  between  Ithaca  and  rugged 
Samos."  The  only  island  in  the  channel  of  Ithaca 
is  Daskalio  or  Mathitario,  about  six  miles  from  Polis. 
From  Stavros  we  had  a  good  view  of  this  Httle 
island,  which  does  not  look  much  larger  than  a  sand- 
bar now,  though   the  Odyssey  requires  one  with  a 


68  THE  ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

"  double  harbor."  But  there  is  time  for  many  changes 
in  three  thousand  years.  Taking  this  little  island  as 
a  fixed  and  necessary  point  in  the  identification,  we 
are  obliged,  then,  to  assume  some  other  place  for  the 
town  of  Ithaca  than  the  present  site  of  Vathy.  The 
fact  that  Polis  means  *'  city  "  in  Greek,  and  that  this 
name  has  been  applied  to  the  harbor  on  the  north- 
west coast  for  centuries,  creates  a  presumption  that 
the  ancient  city  may  have  been  there. 

There  are  other  questions  which  meet  the  Homeric 
student:  Where  was  the  cave  of  the  Nymphs,  and 
where  did  Odysseus  land  when  he  returned  to  Ithaca? 
About  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  south  of  Vathy  is  a 
cave  with  stalactites,  called  Palaeokropi,  which  might 
have  served  as  the  grotto  of  the  Nymphs,  —  though 
if  the  Nymphs  do  not  belong  to  the  world  of  reality, 
their  grotto  might  be  easily  and  pardonably  myth- 
ical. The  description  of  the  harbor  of  Phorcys  is 
quite  definite.  Some  find  its  correspondent  in  the 
Bay  of  Dexia,  and  others  in  the  Bay  of  Vathy. 

The  result  of  examination — the  ascent  of  Aetos, 
the  wet  trip  to  Stavr6s,  and  a  study  of  Vathy  and 
the  Gulf  of  Molo  —  convinced  me  that  many  of  the 
topographical  allusions  in  the  Odyssey  cannot  be 
easily  identified  in  detail.  A  theory  which  fits  one 
locality  and  one  allusion  is  sure  to  involve  contradic- 
tion and  misfit  with  another  allusion.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  we  may  dismiss  as  the  mistake  of  some 
rhapsodist  who  had  never  been  to  Ithaca,  the  state- 
ment as  to  the  westerly  position  of  the  island,  we 
cannot  fail  to  find  a  striking  general  resemblance  to 
the  rugged,  far-seen,  rocky  isle  described  in  the 
Odyssey.     It  seems  to  me  that  the  original  rhapso- 


THE  IONIAN   ISLES  69 

dists  may  have  used  it  so  far  as  it  served  their  pur- 
pose, and  that  the  author  or  editor  who  unified  the 
story  attempted  no  geographical  identification.  The 
remarkable  discoveries  at  Troy,  which  were  made 
through  loyally  accepting  the  verity  of  a  hoary  tra- 
dition as  to  the  site  of  the  ancient  city,  remind  us  of 
the  great  claim  that  tradition  has  to  respect.  Though 
Gell  carried  too  far  his  attempt  to  identify  places  in 
the  Odyssey,  he  has  done  well  to  present  evidence 
from  coins  and  elsewhere  to  show  how  many  cen- 
turies the  name  Ithaca  has  been  applied  to  the  island. 
The  spade  has  not  come  to  the  corroboration  of  the 
poet  in  Ithaca,  as  it  has  at  Troy  and  Mycenae.  Ex- 
cavations have  proved  of  little  avail.  But  it  is  not 
necessary  to  go  below  ground  to  substantiate  Homer 
here.  The  island  may  have  lost  many  of  its  trees, 
though  the  olive  and  the  almond  and  the  lemon  are 
found  in  the  northern  part,  and  there  are  beautiful 
vineyards  such  as  Laertes  may  have  tended ;  but 
the  substantial  features  of  mountain  and  bay,  "  the 
footpaths  stretching  far  away,  the  sheltered  coves 
and  steep  rocks  "  of  which  the  poet  spoke,  still  re- 
main enveloped  in  the  glow  of  his  imagination.  If 
the  doubter  lands  at  Ithaca,  Athene,  in  the  shape  of 
the  shepherd,  may  say,  as  she  did  to  the  sceptical 
Odysseus,  *'  Come,  then,  and  let  me  point  you  out 
the  parts  of  Ithaca,  that  so  you  may  believe."  And 
important  features  in  the  argument  will  be,  as  they 
were  then,  the  Harbor  of  Phorcys  and  the  Cave  of 
the  Nymphs. 


ZANTE 
I 

THE  WORK   OF  THE  EARTHSHAKER 

Poor  Zante !  When  first  I  saw  her,  from  the 
heights  of  Cephalonia,  she  was  lying  peacefully,  like 
a  brooch,  on  the  quiet  bosom  of  the  sea.  And  then, 
as  if  seized  by  a  fearful  nightmare,  she  was  rudely 
shaken  from  her  sleep,  and  her  scarred  face  plainly 
shows  the  suffering  she  endured. 

Zante,  or  Zakynthos,  as  it  was  anciently  called, 
and  as  it  has  been  renamed  by  the  modern  Greeks, 
is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  Ionian  islands. 
It  lies  to  the  south  of  Cephalonia  and  to  the  west 
of  the  Peloponnesus,  and,  like  the  other  Ionian 
islands,  floats  the  Greek  flag.  It  is  old  enough  to 
be  mentioned  in  the  Odyssey,  but,  unlike  Corfu  or 
Ithaca,  has  not  been  the  scene  of  epic  description 
or  adventure. 

With  the  exception  of  a  constitutional  tendency  to 
earthquakes,  Zante  is  a  little  island  paradise,  '^  the 
flower  of  the  East."  Its  climate  is  exceptionally  fine. 
In  spring  the  multitude  of  flowers  is  something  phe- 
nomenal, and  even  in  winter  roses  and  cyclamen 
bloom  in  abundance.  It  is  a  great  garden  for  cur- 
rants, oranges  and  lemons,  and  its  olive  groves  are 
hale  and  venerable, 

Zante  is  seldom  visited  by  Americans ;  but  there 
are  few  who  are  not  famihar  with  its  products  in  the 


THE  IONIAN  ISLES  7 1 

shape  of  currants  and  olive  oil,  which,  until  recently, 
have  formed  a  large  part  of  its  trade,  now  sadly 
debilitated  by  causes  as  revolutionary  as  earthquakes. 
The  island  has  a  population  of  about  forty-four  thou- 
sand and  an  area  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-nine 
square   miles. 

Ordinarily,  Zante  is  not  a  place  for  sightseers. 
The  town  by  that  name,  with  a  population  of  about 
sixteen  thousand  souls,  is  quiet,  well  behaved,  and 
not  at  all  sensational.  It  has  a  fine  old  Greek 
church,  a  Roman  Catholic  church,  and  a  ruined 
Venetian  castle  commanding  the  city  from  the  high 
hill  above.  The  archaeologist  generally  goes  else- 
where in  search  of  ruins;  but  in  February,  1893,  he 
could  find  them  there  in  sad  abundance.  He  could 
watch  them,  too,  in  process  of  making,  with  the 
added  interest  which  came  from  knowing  that  he  was 
in  great  danger  thereby  of  becoming  a  ruin  himself. 
At  Vido  I  had  seen  them  made  by  gunpowder ;  I  was 
interested  to  see  how  they  were  made  by  earthquakes. 
My  curiosity  was  abundantly  satisfied.  A  dead  earth- 
quake is  bad  enough,  especially  when  it  leaves  pov- 
erty and  distress  in  its  path,  but  a  live  one,  when 
you  are  in  the  second  story  of  a  hotel,  is  the  most 
surprising  of  earthly  sensations. 

It  does  not  seem  strange,  when  you  think  of  the 
globe  as  rushing  through  space  faster  than  a  cannon- 
ball,  that  occasionally  a  section  of  its  crust,  warped 
by  volcanic  fires  or  wrinkled  by  some  great  subsi- 
dence, should  crack  and  shiver.  But,  though  we  are 
perfectly  used  to  the  motion  of  the  earth  as  a  whole, 
there  are  few  things  more  startling  than  the  motion 
of  a  large  piece  of  its  surface.     It  is  doubly  startling 


*r2  THE  ISLES  AND   SltRINfiS  OF  GREEiCE 

when  you  are  on  an  island  which  everywhere  bears 
marks  of  the  mighty  force  which  has  convulsed  it, 
and  left  ruined  homes  and  churches,  and  pain  and 
poverty  in  its  track.  You  have  seen  what  such  a 
tremendous  force  can  do ;  you  feel  absolutely  help- 
less in  its  hands.  One  may  become  so  thoroughly 
accustomed  to  the  motion  of  water  as  to  have  a  sense 
of  mental  and  physical  exhilaration  in  riding  on  its 
waves ;  but  when  the  very  earth  shakes  beneath  you 
like  a  sieve,  you  feel  as  helpless  dust  within  it. 

It  was  four  days  after  the  great  shock  which  left 
town  and  village  sadly  shattered  that  I  had  my  first 
experience  with  an  active  earthquake.  It  was  a 
sort  of  shuddering  reminiscence  of  what  had  gone 
before,  a  premonition,  too,  of  what  was  to  follow,  not 
the  kind  of  dessert  you  want  for  your  dinner.  It 
was  not  what  it  did  that  frightened  one,  so  much  as 
what  it  seemed  capable  of  doing.  Emotionally  at 
least  you  had  considered  this  "  terrestrial  ball "  as 
solid  and  inert.  You  are  suddenly  amazed  to  find 
it  alive.  It  is  arching  its  gigantic  back;  it  is  trem- 
bling with  anger  or  pain.  More  fearful  than  the 
thought  that  its  motion  is  voluntary  is  the  terribly 
swift  suspicion  that  it  may  be  involuntary ;  that  the 
great  creature  cannot  help  it ;  that  it  is  the  victim  of 
internal  distress.  If  you  were  not  so  frightened,  you 
might  even  be  sympathetic ;  you  are  immensely  re- 
lieved when  the  shaking  stops ;  but  you  have  no 
surety  that  it  will  not  come  again. 

In  this  pale  incertitude  none  of  us  left  the  table. 
We  might  have  done  so  had  it  not  been  for  the  stolid 
indifiference  of  the  hotel  keeper.  He  was  the  only 
person  or  thing  in  the  vicinity  that  in  the  midst  of 


tHE  IONIAN  ISLES  73 

the  general  agitation  seemed  to  be  absolutely  un- 
moved. He  felt  perfectly  sure,  he  said,  that  his  hotel 
would  stand.     Did  he  hold  a  mortgage  on  the  land? 

The  next  morning  at  six  o'clock  occurred  the  most 
powerful  shock  after  the  first  ruinous  one.  We  were 
sleeping,  my  companion  and  myself,  in  two  iron  bed- 
steads, each  of  which  had  a  frame  above,  terminating 
in  a  gilded  crown  for  the  support  of  a  mosquito  net- 
ting. The  affirmation  of  Shakspere,  "  Uneasy  lies  the 
head  that  wears  a  crown,"  seemed  to  have  in  it  an  ele- 
ment of  prediction.  The  King  of  Greece,  however, 
had  taken  off  his  crown,  or  the  jaunty  little  yachting- 
cap  that  serves  the  same  purpose,  and  gone  to  a  safe 
place  on  his  yacht.  Our  gilded  crowns  were  a  part  of 
the  bedstead.  I  do  not  know  how  the  king  felt,  but 
as  for  myself,  the  sensation  I  had  at  six  o'clock  that 
morning  was  unlike  anything  I  had  ever  experienced. 
For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the  bottom  had  dropped 
out  of  everything.  We  waited  expectantly  for  the 
tremendous  crash  with  which  the  building  would  col- 
lapse and  bury  us  in  its  ruins.  What  a  mighty  ague ! 
It  was  not  a  wave,  not  an  undulation,  but  a  wrench- 
ing, shivering,  shattering.  Titanic  power.  It  is  only 
three  or  four  seconds  in  duration,  but  each  second  is 
a  brief  eternity.  What  can  you  do?  If  you  are  able 
to  rush  into  the  street,  you  may  be  killed  by  your 
neighbor's  walls ;  if  you  stay  in  your  house,  you  may 
be  buried  under  your  own.  On  the  whole,  the  safest 
thing  is  to  do  nothing.  Your  fate  will  be  decided  for 
you. 

One  needs  to  experience  an  earthquake  to  know 
what  terror  might  reside  in  the  old  time  in  the  desig- 
nation of  Poseidon  as  the  earthshaker.     Had  the  sea 


;74  THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES  OF  GREECE 

god  waked  up  to  wreak  his  vengeance  on  Christian 
shrines? 

The  time  for  you  to  make  your  preparation,  when 
you  Hve  \u  h.n  earthquake  country,  is  when  you  build 
your  house.  And  if  you  build  as  in  the  sight  of  the 
gods,  you  can  put  up  a  house  that  will  endure  on  this 
tremulous  island  the  repeated  shocks  of  seven  hun- 
dred years.  So  the  Venetians  built  here,  and  so 
the  English  who  followed  them.  This  is  one  rea- 
son why  there  is  little  appearance  of  earthquake  ruin 
as  you  sail  into  the  harbor  of  Zante  to-day.  The 
great  buildings,  the  lofty  towers,  were  made  to  last. 
Not  so  the  houses  built  by  the  Greeks  living  in 
the  outskirts  of  the  town  and  in  the  villages  on  the 
island.  They  have  been  built  with  stones  and  earth, 
without  the  grip  of  lime,  and  when  the  day  of 
reckoning  comes  they  go  down. 

Just  how  the  earthshaker  troubled  Zante  in  ancient 
times,  I  do  not  know;  but  in  the  present  century 
several  visitations  have  been  recorded.  Severe  shocks 
were  felt  in  1873  and  1886,  but  the  last  great  con- 
vulsion before  that  of  1893  was  in  1840,  on  Saint 
Luke's  Day.  It  did  a  great  deal  of  damage,  but 
there  was  only  one  shock.  The  earthquake  of  1893, 
however,  was  signalled  by  slight  premonitions,  and 
by  several  succeeding  shocks  of  great  power.  The 
strongest,  which  did  immense  damage  and  endan- 
gered the  lives  of  thousands  of  people,  occurred  at 
half-past  five  on  the  morning  of  January  31.  It  was 
followed  by  one  at  two  o'clock  the  next  day,  and  by 
a  third  at  six  o'clock  the  day  following,  February  2. 
Between  these  were  a  great  number  of  minor  shocks, 
which  served  to  continue  and  heighten  the  alarm  and 


THE  IONIAN  ISLES  75 

to  heap  up  another  instalment  of  ruins  in  the  outskirts 
of  the  city. 

Excitement  and  terror  were  widespread.  The 
nomarch,  or  governor  of  the  island,  lost  his  head 
completely,  and  was  found  on  the  shore  hunting  for 
a  boat  in  which  to  escape  with  his  family  from  the 
island.  Five  hundred  people  immediately  sailed  for 
Patras,  and  as  many  more  left  the  next  day.  Those 
who  owned  anything  in  the  shape  of  a  wagon  or  car- 
riage, pulled  it  out  in  the  square  or  on  the  quay  and 
slept  in  it.  Others  hired  carriages  for  the  same  pur- 
pose. No  one  went  to  bed.  The  country  people 
stayed  out  of  doors.  On  the  third  day  the  terror 
was  increased  by  a  tremendous  storm  of  thunder  and 
lightning,  and  a  general  panic  ensued. 

The  condition  of  a  large  number  of  people  was 
certainly  unfortunate.  They  were  suddenly  rendered 
homeless.  Some  had  nothing  but  the  clothes  on 
their  backs.  The  climate  of  Zante  is  usually  mild, 
even  in  winter;  but  that  week  the  cold  was  more 
severe  than  for  many  years.  The  rain  poured  into 
the  roofless  cellars  in  which  many  families  had  taken 
refuge.  From  the  Greek  naval  station,  about  three 
hours  by  water,  one  hundred  tents  were  sent  to  the 
island,  where  several  thousand  were  needed.  Half  of 
these  tents  were  taken  possession  of  by  the  soldiers, 
who  had  left  their  barracks.  The  Athenian  papers 
loudly  rebuked  this  form  of  military  cowardice,  and 
the  nomarch  and  the  commandant  were  dismissed. 

The  poorest  part  of  the  town  is  on  the  south  side, 
in  what  is  known  as  Neachori.  The  havoc  of  the 
earthquake  here  was  great,  so  far  as  property  is  con- 
cerned.     Few  houses  were  totally  demolished.     In 


j6  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

nearly  every  case  one  or  two  walls  were  left  stand- 
ing, and  in  almost  all  cases  the  front.  This  fact  is 
significant.  The  system  of  house  building  in  Zante  in 
the  last  thirty  years  has  been  disgracefully  careless. 
No  lime  is  used  in  the  construction  of  the  walls 
except  on  the  facades,  which  are  the  only  parts  that 
stand.  A  wall  of  earth  and  stones  may  bear  the 
slight  exposure  of  such  a  mild  climate  as  that  of 
Zante,  but  it  is  no  protection  against  a  wrenching, 
jostling  earthquake.  That  more  people  were  not 
maimed  or  killed  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  inhabi- 
tants well  know  where  the  weak  part  of  the  house  is, 
and  so  have  their  sleeping-rooms  in  the  front,  and 
the  kitchen  and  dining-room  in  the  back.  The  most 
destructive  shock  was  at  half-past  five  in  the  morn- 
ing, before  they  had  risen.  There  were  thus  few 
people  on  the  streets  to  be  hit  by  falling  stones. 

Earthquakes  undoubtedly  have  their  freaks ;  but 
they  do  have  some  respect  for  good  architecture. 
In  the  larger  buildings,  for  the  most  part,  the  dam- 
age was  confined  to  faUing  ceilings,  tiles  and  copings. 
Yet  some  of  the  churches  fared  badly,  the  Roman 
Catholic  having  an  immense  hole  in  the  side  wall 
through  which  the  morning  sun  shone  on  the  dam- 
aged picture  of  the  Virgin. 

This  little  idyllic  island,  sunning  itself  in  the  Ionian 
Sea,  is  held  to  the  larger  world  by  no  less  than  nine 
submarine  cables,  radiating  to  all  points  of  the  com- 
pass, —  south  and  southeast  to  Crete  and  Alexandria, 
east  to  Katakolon  and  the  Peloponnesus,  north  to 
Patras  and  Athens,  northwest  to  Corfu  and  Italy, 
west  to  Malta.  An  island  thus  guyed  by  electric 
cables  could  not  float  away  from  the  sympathies  of 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  ^JJ 

the  world  or  be  left  in  isolated  affliction.  No  sooner 
had  the  shock  of  January  31  shaken  Zante  than 
the  lightning  flashing  in  these  nine  cables  carried 
the  news  of  the  devastation  to  all  parts  of  the  civ- 
ilized world.  Then  came  the  echoes  from  sympa- 
thetic hearts  and  generous  purses.  I  have  never  seen 
Greece  stirred  as  she  was  by  this  event.  Politi- 
cal feeling  runs  so  high  that  unity  of  thought  and 
feeling  and  action  are  sometimes  well-nigh  impos- 
sible. But  the  whole  nation  was  welded  into  a 
sympathetic  whole  in  the  fires  of  affliction.  The 
Athenian  newspapers  at  once  sent  correspondents 
to  the  scene  of  the  disaster,  and  every  day  served 
up  a  broadside  of  telegrams  filling  several  columns. 
Earnest,  patriotic  and  humane  were  their  calls  for 
aid  to  their  unfortunate  countrymen.  Subscription 
lists  were  opened,  and  money  came  pouring  in.  It 
was  not  a  time  of  financial  prosperity  in  Greece ; 
but  as  soon  as  the  nature  of  the  disaster  was  fully 
known,  subscriptions  were  prompt  and  abundant. 
Athens  has  many  newspapers,  and  it  is  evident  that 
the  people  read  them.  Sad  as  it  was  to  go  round 
and  see  the  evidences  of  disaster  on  this  beautiful 
island,  nothing  during  my  stay  in  Greece  made  me 
gladder  than  this  proof  that  the  Greek  people 
are  inspired  by  the  spirit  of  Christian  philanthropy. 
While  some  of  the  subscriptions  were  imposingly 
large,  the  smaller  ones  represented  even  greater  sacri- 
fice. Clubs,  societies,  theatres,  workingmen's  guilds, 
school  children,  corporations  and  tradesmen  all  united 
their  tithes  and  their  endeavors. 

The   responses    from    England,   France,   Germany 
and    America  were   equally   prompt   and    generous. 


78  THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

More  immediately  urgent  than  money  gifts  was  the 
need  of  tents  and  supplies  for  the  homeless  and 
hungry.  In  the  race  to  furnish  relief  England 
came  in  ahead.  News  of  the  disaster  had  been  tele- 
graphed to  London,  and  thence  to  Admiral  Tryon  of 
the  Mediterranean  fleet.  It  took  only  a  single  elec- 
tric spark  to  kindle  the  humane  energy  of  our  Eng- 
lish cousins.  The  English  ironclad  "  Camperdown  " 
was  just  going  into  Malta.  Within  three  hours  after 
she  arrived  she  was  loaded  with  five  hundred  large 
and  one  thousand  small  tents,  two  marquees,  seventy 
tons  of  boards,  a  large  quantity  of  biscuit,  rice,  flour, 
cocoa,  and  two  thousand  blankets.  She  sailed  imme- 
diately, under  the  command  of  Captain  Johnstone, 
and  arrived  at  Zante  on  the  third  of  February.  The 
same  energy  displayed  in  getting  the  supplies  was 
shown  in  distributing  them  for  the  relief  of  the  suf- 
ferers. The  English  Jack-tars  worked  with  a  hearty 
good  will  in  putting  up  tents.  Captain  Johnstone 
was  ubiquitous  on  horseback,  bringing  cool  judg- 
ment as  well  as  warm  sympathy  to  the  aid  of  the 
panic-stricken  people. 

A  committee  of  rehef  was  at  once  formed  for  the 
proper  distribution  of  tents  and  food.  It  consisted 
of  the  English  residents  and  members  of  both  of  the 
prominent  Greek  political  parties,  with  sub-commit- 
tees in  the  villages.  Later  three  Greek  men-of-war 
arrived  with  further  supplies,  and  an  Italian  man-of- 
war  came  on  a  similar  errand  of  mercy.  King  George 
of  Greece  and  Queen  Olga,  with  the  Crown  Prince 
and  Prince  Nicolas,  arrived  in  the  royal  yacht,  ac- 
companied by  the  Minister  of  the  Interior. 

I  joined  the  king  and  queen  and  the  rest  of  the 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  79 

royal  party  in  their  tour  of  inspection.  Large  throngs 
met  them  at  the  wharf,  and  followed  them  silently 
through  the  streets.  At  any  other  time  there  would 
have  been  great  cheering  and  speechmaking;  but 
the  royal  visit  seemed  a  sorrowful  pilgrimage  to  min- 
ister to  stricken  subjects,  and  there  were  more  tears 
than  cheers.  The  king  and  queen  went  into  churches 
and  monasteries,  but  especially  into  the  wrecked 
homes,  and  gave  to  many  poor  people  that  sympathy 
which  helps  to  bear  trials.  The  king  with  his  little 
yachting  cap  looked  like  a  naval  officer,  and  the 
queen,  dressed  in  deep  black,  like  the  Sister  of 
Charity  that  she  really  is.  Every  one  was  impressed 
with  her  simplicity  and  tender  kindness. 

Students  of  seismology  found  interesting  material 
for  study  in  the  earthquakes  of  1893.  The  nine  sub- 
marine cables  converging  in  Zante  pass  over  known 
seismic  centres.  In  all  the  serious  shocks  which  the 
island  has  sustained  since  they  were  laid,  the  cables 
in  the  path  of  the  earthquake  have  been  broken.  In 
the  great  convulsion  of  the  27th  of  August,  1886, 
which  preceded  that  of  Charleston,  six  miles  of  the 
cable  were  buried  by  a  landslide  on  the- bottom  of  the 
sea,  which  increased  the  depth  from  seven  hundred 
to  nine  hundred  fathoms.  The  cable  was  never  re- 
covered, and  another  one  was  laid.  A  shock  having 
precisely  the  same  characteristics,  without  the  same 
strength,  occurred  in  1873,  and  parted  the  cable  six 
miles  away  from  Zante.  In  the  catastrophe  I  have 
described  the  cable  was  not  affected. 

Zante  is  composed  of  rock  surrounded  on  the 
southeast  and  northwest  by  a  bank  of  yellow  mud, 
gradually   shelving  into   forty   or   fifty   fathoms   two 


8o  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

miles  away  from  the  shore,  when  suddenly  the  lead 
drops  from  three  hundred  to  five  hundred  fathoms. 
That  this  latter  depth  is  the  centre  of  the  earthquakes, 
seems  probable  from  the  fact  that  Cephalonia,  to  the 
north,  felt  no  shock;  Patras,  but  a  sHght  one;  Gastouni, 
fifteen  miles  due  east  from  Zante,  was  shaken  severely ; 
and  Katakolon  and  Pyrgos,  twenty-five  miles  east  and 
southeast  of  the  town  of  Zante,  felt  the  disturbance 
strongly,  but  suffered  no  damage.  The  lesser  shocks 
were  not  felt  elsewhere.  The  cables  tested  showed  no 
increase  of  sea  temperature,  which  would  have  oc- 
curred if  there  had  been  an  active  volcano.  Mr. 
Foster,  the  Zante  seismologist,  claims  that  while 
earthquakes  in  Japan  and  in  the  vicinity  of  ^tna 
and  Hecla  are  due  to  volcanic  causes,  those  in  this 
region  are  due  to  mechanical  causes.  There  are  evi- 
dences of  a  strong  current  even  at  the  bottom  of  the 
ocean.  Some  of  the  cables  have  been  eaten  away  by 
chemical  action.  Disintegration  is  constantly  going 
on  and  vast  displacements  of  submarine  mountains 
occur,  burying  the  cables  and  causing  the  tidal  waves 
which  generally  accompany  an  earthquake. 

Zante  has  gradually  lost  the  position  it  once  held 
as  a  commercial  town.  This  is  largely  owing  to  the 
opening  of  the  railway  on  the  mainland  between 
Pyrgos  and  Patras.  During  the  currant  season  the 
city  of  Zante  used  to  be  not  only  the  port  for  loading 
steamers  with  her  own  produce,  but  all  the  currant- 
growing  centres  on  the  Arcadian  coast  sent  their 
fruit  up  in  caiques  to  be  sold  and  shipped  there, 
adding  fifty  thousand  tons  to  her  trade.  The  people 
have  been  unusually  thrifty  in  days  that  are  past. 
From   the  English  they  acquired  the  habit  of  put- 


THE  IONIAN   ISLES  8 1 

ting  by  something  for  a  rainy  day.  But  owing  to 
the  reduced  commercial  importance  of  the  island  and 
an  exceptionally  bad  season,  their  little  savings  had 
been  entirely  exhausted  and  the  next  year's  crop 
mortgaged.  The  misfortune  of  the  earthquake  was 
thus  accentuated  by  commercial  depression.  That 
explains  why  many  of  these  hitherto  thrifty  people 
were  not  able  to  buy  bread. 

Ten  years  ago  there  began  a  mania  for  the  pro- 
duction of  currants,  owing  to  the  increased  demand 
in  France  for  dried  fruit  to  replace  the  damage  done 
by  the  phylloxera.  All  the  good,  bad  and  indifferent 
fruit  remaining  in  the  country  was  bought  up  at  fab- 
ulous prices  by  French  merchants.  The  Greeks  up- 
rooted many  of  their  olive-trees  and  ruthlessly  burnt 
some  millions  of  oak  and  pine  trees  in  order  to  plant 
currants.  But  France  found  that  the  wine  produced 
was  not  drinkable,  and  obtained  her  supplies  else- 
where. The  result  was  that  two  hundred  thousand 
tons  of  currants  were  produced,  when  there  was  a 
demand  for  only  half  the  amount.  Owing  to  the 
destruction  of  olives,  the  quantity  of  oil  produced 
was  reduced  fifty  per  cent.  There  is  still  a  demand 
for  olives;  but  it  will  take  many  years  to  replace 
the  trees. 

Thus  the  present  outlook  for  Zante  is  not  a  cheerful 
one.  But  the  soil  is  fertile,  and  were  many  of  these 
currant  vines  uprooted  and  grains  grown  instead, 
the  island,  it  is  claimed  by  competent  authorities, 
could  well  compete  for  the  European  market. 


II 

A  BIT   OF   EXEGESIS 

There  are  some  words  whose  meaning  cannot  be 
learned  from  the  dictionary  of  a  foreign  tongue. 
They  must  be  learned  from  life,  manners,  customs, 
scenery,  climate.  This  is  especially  true  of  Greece, 
whose  literature  reflects  so  much  of  its  life.  To 
travel  there  is  to  give  one  a  new  conception  of 
even  the  commonest  w^ords.  ''  Sun,"  "  sky,"  "  light," 
"  moon,"  "  night,"  mean  infinitely  more  to  one  after 
he  has  seen  the  rosy-fingered  light  of  a  Greek  morn, 
the  blaze  of  noon,  the  glory  of  a  sunset,  the  wonder- 
ful beauty  of  the  star-gemmed  heavens  at  night.  No 
one  who  lives  habitually  under  a  leaden  sky  can  im- 
agine the  transparency  of  the  Greek  atmosphere. 
The  scenery  of  Greece  is  beautifully  reflected  in  its 
language.  Mountains,  hills,  plains,  groves  and  seas 
interpret  the  words  which  describe  them.  Greece  is 
a  small  country;  but  if  not  vast,  it  is  intense.  It 
is  a  cameo,  beautifully  cut.  Some  words  shrink  in 
size  when  we  have  known  it,  but  they  do  not  shrink 
in  significance.  The  word  ''  river  "  is  an  exception. 
A  boy  brought  up  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson  or 
the  Mississippi  might  jump  over  some  of  these  Greek 
rivers  without  knowing  that  he  had  crossed  them. 

I  learned  while  standing  on  the  shaky  soil  of  Zante 
the  meaning  of  one  word  in  Homer.  It  was  worth 
coming  hundreds   of  miles   to  see   it  unfolded   in  a 


THE  IONIAN   ISLES  83 

beautiful  illustration,  one  of  the  finest  I  have  seen 
in  Greece.  Homer  speaks  of  Ithaca  as  *'  far-seen," 
"  rugged,"  "  rocky."  And  so  it  is.  Its  mountain 
shapes  are  clearly  cut  in  the  sky  line;  and,  when 
you  cross  to  it  from  Cephalonia,  you  see  what  a 
rugged,  rocky  land  it  is,  without  marsh  or  pasture 
except  for  its  browsing  goats.  You  understand  per- 
fectly what  Homer  meant  when  he  used  these  ad- 
jectives, and  you  see  how  well  they  fit  into  the 
picture.  But  there  is  another  phrase  not  so  easily 
explained,  and  I  sailed  away  from  Ithaca  at  night 
without  knowing  what  it  meant.  I  refer  to  Homer's 
characterization  of  it  as  "  low-lying,"  an  adjective 
which  seems  quite  inconsistent  with  the  others  I  have 
quoted.  But,  on  climbing  the  lofty  hill  of  Zante, 
crowned  with  its  sturdy  Venetian  fortress,  I  discov- 
ered, as  I  looked  toward  the  north,  the  meaning  of 
Homer's  epithet.  The  grand,  impressive  object  was 
the  island  of  Cephalonia.  Its  lofty  mountain,  Aenus, 
is  the  highest  in  the  Ionian  islands.  So  grand  is  the 
swell  of  its  curve,  as  it  rises  majestically  above  the 
water,  that  it  looks  not  like  a  peak  set  on  a  pedestal, 
but  as  if  the  whole  island  were  a  mountain  standing 
up  to  its  knees  in  the  sea.  To  the  east,  on  the  right 
as  you  look  from  the  south,  nestles  Ithaca  under  the 
shadow  of  the  greater  isle.  It  is  by  comparison  alone 
that  it  is  ''  low-lying."  Traverse  its  hills  and  moun- 
tains and  you  will  see  how  generally  accurate  is  the 
description  in  the  Odyssey.  View  it  from  Zante,  and 
the  epithet  "  low-lying  "  is  perfectly  explicable.  It 
does  not  describe  a  flat  island,  but  one  which  is 
low  only  when  compared  with  the  snow-crowned 
peaks    of  Cephalonia.      This   is   but   another   proof 


84  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

that  the  poet  was  describing  a  region  more  or  less 
familiar. 

Homer  and  the  New  Testament  are  a  good  way 
apart,  but  they  are  both  included  in  the  marvellous 
unity  of  the  Greek  language.  If  I  learned  the  mean- 
ing of  one  word  of  Homer,  standing  on  the  hill  of 
Zante,  I  felt  anew  the  force  of  a  verse  in  the  New 
Testament.  It  was  the  doxology  to  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
— "  And  Thine  be  the  kingdom  and  the  power  and 
the  glory."  It  was  the  poiver  that  first  impressed  me. 
What  an  immeasurable  force  had  shaken  this  island 
to  its  foundation !  The  prostrate  villages,  the  shat- 
tered houses  in  the  city  below,,  were  the  melancholy 
proof.  There  is  something  terrible  in  the  conception 
and  experience  of  an  energy  which  in  a  few  sec- 
onds can  turn  a  village  into  a  heap  of  ruins.  Yet, 
awful  as  are  the  destructive  forces  of  Nature,  they 
are  not  so  grand  as  those  which  are  constructive. 
What  mighty  Power  reared  those  lofty  mountains  set 
in  the  bosom  of  the  sea !  Majestic  masonry  whose 
architect  was  the  Eternal !  In  a  thunder-storm  or  an 
earthquake  we  are  startled  by  the  revelation  of  amaz- 
ing power ;  but  what  a  revelation  of  the  silent  energy 
of  Nature  is  made  to  us  all  the  time  !  It  was  mani- 
fest in  the  litde  flower,  in  the  tender  grain  growing  at 
my  feet,  in  the  swell  of  the  tide,  the  breath  of  the 
wind  and  the  glare  of  the  sun.  Silently  the  shadows 
moved;  but  what  an  unspeakable  Energy  moved 
them !  —  the  Power  that  turns  the  world  on  its  axis 
and  sends  it  silently  whirling  on  its  pathway  among 
the  stars.  Compared  with  this  silent  energy  of 
light  and  shadow,  the  Zante  earthquake  seemed 
insignificant. 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES  85 

The  royal  yacht  of  the  King  of  Greece  was  lying 
in  the  harbor,  and  a  few  cables  off  was  the  English 
war-vessel,  the  "  Camperdown/'  which  had  come  so 
quickly  on  its  errand  of  mercy.  Not  far  away  lay  an 
Italian  ironclad  and  two  Greek  men-of-war,  all  on  the 
same  gospel  mission.  Three  political  kingdoms  were 
represented  by  the  flags  in  the  harbor.  The  royal 
family  of  Greece  added  personality  to  vague  and 
abstract  conceptions  of  government.  In  honor  of 
the  king  and  queen,  the  Itahan  vessel  was  gayly 
decked  with  flags.  A  white  puff  of  smoke  from  a 
port-hole ;  and,  four  seconds  afterward,  the  boom  of 
the  gun  reached  my  ear  on  the  hill-top.  Another  fol- 
lowed, and  another,  till  the  full  compliment  of  thunder 
had  been  paid  to  the  sovereign.  But  to  my  thought 
a  kingdom  was  proclaimed  in  this  suggestive  scene 
not  symbolized  by  any  of  the  flags.  More  silently 
than  the  blazing  guns,  the  willing  lightning  carried 
under  the  ocean  the  message  of  sorrow  and  devas- 
tation and  the  appeal  to  human  brotherhood.  Every 
one  of  these  great  war-vessels,  native  and  foreign, 
had  come  in  answer  to  that  appeal.  Each  one  had 
brought  aid  and  comfort.  What  a  majestic  fulfil- 
ment of  the  prediction  that  the  spear  should  be 
turned  into  the  pruning-hook  !  To  what  nobler  ser- 
vice can  a  war-vessel  be  put  than  to  go  on  a  mission 
of  philanthropy,  bearing  bread  for  the  hungry  and 
shelter  for  the  homeless?  The  music  of  that  artillery 
was  the  angel  song  of  peace  on  earth,  good  will  to  men. 
Each  vessel  bore  the  flag  of  its  own  kingdom,  but  also 
the  invisible  banner  of  the  larger  kingdom  of  love  and 
brotherhood. 

And  \S\^ glory  was  not  wanting.    A  wonderful  illunii- 


86  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

nation  of  sunlight  flooded  the  landscape.  "  God  said, 
Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was  light."  The  snow 
on  the  distant  mountains  glistened,  the  sea  glimmered, 
the  rose  and  the  cyclamen  displayed  their  color.  In 
this  surpassing  scene  of  natural  beauty  the  glory  of 
the  Lord  was  enshrined.  But  more  beautiful  than  the 
outward  scene  was  the  conception  of  the  glory  revealed 
in  that  Love  and  Goodness  which,  joined  to  Truth  and 
Beauty,  are  welling  up  in  the  heart  of  man  for  the 
redemption  of  the  world. 


Ill 

THE   SHRINES  OF  ATTICA 


THE  ACROPOLIS   OF  ATHENS 
I 

THE  PARTHENON 

Athens  is  the  centre  of  Greece,  the  Acropolis  is 
the  centre  of  Athens,  and  the  Parthenon  is  the  centre 
of  the  AcropoHs, —  I  do  not  mean  measured  by  the 
surveyor's  chain,  but  by  the  highest  standards  of 
human  interest.  Unless  a  man  is  an  irreclaimable 
Philistine,  the  Acropolis  is  the  first  thing  he  hastens 
to  see  in  Athens,  and  the  last  thing  he  sees  when  he 
takes  his  leave.  And  of  the  temples  which  crown  it, 
the  Parthenon  in  all  its  shattered  glory  is  supreme. 

No  visitor  who  has  not  been  side-tracked  in  pro- 
vincialism or  ignorance  comes  to  the  Parthenon  with- 
out prepossessions.  He  has  seen  it  pictured  in  books 
and  photographs  or  modelled  in  wood  and  stone.  He 
has  heard  it  proclaimed  as  an  adorable  sanctuary  of 
religion  and  art.  He  knows  just  what  he  ought  to 
see  and  just  how  he  ought  to  feel  when  he  sees  it. 
If  he  is  an  American,  he  recalls  not  without  amuse- 
ment the  remarkable  zeal  with  which  wooden  temples 
of  the  Doric  order  were  propagated  in  his  own  land, 
and  applied  to  every  sort  of  structure,  whether  town- 
hall,  church,  schoolhouse,  or  private  dwelling,  with- 
out the  slightest  regard  to  utility  or  fitness.  Perhaps 
he  has  an  unjust  grudge  against  the  Parthenon  as 
the  mother  of  all  these  insignificant  and  solemn  cari- 


90  THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

catures ;  but  could  he  think  any  less  of  them  than 
would  Pericles  himself?  I  have  never  forgotten 
Wagner's  look  of  disgust  when  I  told  him,  just  be- 
fore the  first  grand  representation  of  his  trilogy  at 
Bayreuth,  that  some  one  was  going  about  Germany 
circumventing  his  copyright  by  playing  the  music 
on  a  piano.  Athens  could  not  copyright  the  Parthe- 
non; and  so  the  rustic  imitations  we  have  made  of 
it  have  been  much  like  Wagner's  wonderful  orches- 
tration reduced  to  a  piano,  or  an  oratorio  played  on 
a  flute.  Yet  one  must  not  forget  that  this  multiplica- 
tion of  Grecian  temples  on  American  soil  was  born 
of  the  enthusiasm  which  the  revival  of  knowledge  of 
the  Parthenon  spread  in  Europe,  and  which  crossed 
the  ocean  and  caused  the  Doric  column  to  impinge 
on  the  primeval  forest.  It  is  hard  to  see  how  the 
conceptions  of  one  who  comes  with  such  impressions 
as  these  or  with  any  impressions  derived  from  pic- 
tures or  models  of  the  Parthenon  can  help  being 
heightened  when  he  sees  the  original,  unless  he 
comes  with  a  too  luxurious  imagination ;  and  in  that 
case  I  am  bold  enough  to  think  his  imagination  is 
more  likely  to  be  at  fault  than  that  embodied  in  a 
temple  which  Pericles  and  Phidias  and  Ictinus  and 
Callicrates  thought  worthy  of  the  gods. 

Many  visitors  to  Niagara  have  confessed  their 
disappointment  at  the  first  sight  of  the  great  cata- 
ract; and  Mr.  Mahaffy  has  admitted  that  even  the 
Parthenon  could  not  stand  the  weight  of  expectation 
he  had  formed  in  regard  to  it,  though  his  disappoint- 
ment subsequently  gave  way  to  sober  and  enduring 
admiration.  Too  much  importance,  however,  may 
be   ascribed    to   first    impressions.     Few   brains    can 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  9 1 

take  an  instantaneous  view  perfect  in  all  its  details. 
The  mind  has  not  had  time  to  get  into  focus.  The 
emotions  have  not  had  time  to  rise.  The  subject 
cannot  be  grasped  in  its  full  proportions.  The  first 
impressions  of  an  engraving  may  be  the  clearest  and 
best;  but  brains  are  not  always  so  sensitive  as  paper, 
and  the  process  by  which  great  images  or  ideas  are 
transferred  to  them  is  often  like  that  of  the  slow, 
laborious  work  by  which  the  engraver  cuts  a  plate. 
The  only  man  who  can  afford  to  be  satisfied  with  his 
first  impression  of  the  Parthenon  is  he  who  is  so  un- 
fortunate as  not  to  be  able  to  take  a  second.  I  have 
seen  tourists  come  up  in  their  carriages,  remain  half 
an  hour  or  less,  and  then  go  off.  They  have  '*  done 
the  Parthenon,"  but  the  Parthenon  has  not  done 
much  for  them.  They  can  say  that  they  have  seen 
it,  and  thus  secure  a  little  respect  in  good  society, 
though  even  this  claim  is  not  true.  No  one  can  see 
the  Parthenon  who  does  not  know  it,  and  he  cannot 
know  it  without  studying  it.  It  is  one  of  those  grand 
and  enduring  works  whose  emotional  effect  is  in- 
creased by  a  knowledge  of  the  intellectual  and 
aesthetic  principles  upon  which  it  is  constructed, 
just  as  a  thorough  student  of  harmony  can  perceive 
relations  and  enjoy  effects  not  perceptible  to  an  un- 
educated ear. 

As  for  myself,  I  mounted  the  Acropolis  with  a  joy 
which  it  would  be  but  affectation  to  conceal.  I  should 
as  soon  think  of  measuring  the  great  temple  by  my 
first  impression  of  it  as  of  measuring  an  oak  with  an 
acorn.  Even  so  far  as  the  mere  intellectual  use  of 
vision  is  concerned,  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  pair 
of  eyes  to  see  at  once  all  of  the  Parthenon,  its  struc- 


92  THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

ture,  method,  and  intent.  It  was  more  than  a  cen- 
tury and  a  half  after  the  temple  had  become  known 
to  the  Western  world  through  Spon  and  Wheler,  in 
1678,  that  the  curvature  was  discovered  by  Penne- 
thorne  in  1837.  There  are  elements  in  it  which  the 
eye  can  discover  only  when  aided  by  the  rule. 

The  Parthenon  is  a  symphony  in  stone.  It  is  not 
to  be  grasped  in  any  melodic  phrase  of  construction, 
but  only  in  the  full,  rich  harmony  of  its  perfection. 
From  a  study  of  the  whole  one  is  led  inevitably  to  a 
study  of  the  parts ;  and  from  a  study  of  the  parts  he 
comes  back  to  a  fuller,  more  perfect  conception  of 
the  whole.  Alas  that  gunpowder  and  vandalism 
should  have  made  such  inroads  upon  its  beauty! 
Though  shaken  by  earthquakes,  the  tooth  of  time  has 
spared  it.  There  is  scarcely  a  wrinkle  on  its  counte- 
nance which  can  be  ascribed  to  age  or  decay.  It 
was  the  divine  energy  of  man  that  reared  it,  and  the 
diabolical  energy  of  man  that  broke  its  columns  and 
architraves  and  stripped  its  frieze  and  pediments  of 
their  treasures.  This  is  the  melancholy  thought 
which  forces  itself  on  the  visitor.  Let  the  bombard- 
ment of  the  Parthenon  be  another  count  in  the  in- 
dictment against  the  costs  and  hardships  of  war. 

Though  literally  ''  broken  and  cast  down,"  the  tem- 
ple is  "  not  in  despair."  The  drums  of  many  of  its 
columns  are  scattered  about,  and  great  gaps  are  left  in 
the  stately  row  which  supported  the  roof;  but  there 
is  a  grandness,  a  solidit}^  a  strength,  in  the  ruins 
which  brook  no  suggestion  of  decay.  The  Parthenon 
was  young  when  it  was  dismembered,  and  it  is  young 
still.  The  fallen  drums  are  white  and  sound  to  the 
core. 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  93 

One  of  the  elements  in  the  glory  of  the  Parthenon 
is  the  imposing  Acropolis  on  which  it  stands.  Here 
is  a  steep  hill  of  solid  rock,  rising  abruptly  from 
the  plain  to  a  height  of  two  hundred  feet.  It  is  a 
natural  fortification,  inaccessible  on  all  sides  but 
one.  It  is  only  about  three  hundred  yards  the  long- 
est way,  and  about  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  the 
shortest.  Yet  what  spot  in  Greece  contains  more 
shrines  of  art  or  religion  or  more  history  to  the 
square  inch  carved  into  or  built  upon  its  surface? 

There  is  first  the  hard,  crystalline  limestone  of 
which  the  hill  itself  is  built,  hoary  with  age  and  out- 
dating  and  outlasting  everything  that  has  been  built 
upon  it.  Its  summit  must  have  been  rough  and 
jagged  when  the  work  was  begun  of  planing  it  off  to 
furnish  the  foundations  for  the  dwelling-place  of  men 
and  gods.  Athens  did  not  begin  on  the  plain,  and 
extend  to  the  hill :  it  began  on  the  hill,  and  spread 
to  the  plain.  This  lofty  rock  was  far  enough  from 
the  sea  to  furnish  a  safe  retreat  from  the  depreda- 
tions of  pirates,  and  it  was  easy  to  fortify  it  against 
attack.  Those  early  dwellers,  Pelasgic  or  other,  did 
not  put  up  a  hedge  or  a  board  fence.  They  erected 
walls  whose  rough,  solid  masonry  still  winds  its 
rugged  courses  around  and  over  the  Acropolis,  as  it 
did  centuries  before  the  Parthenon  was  built.  Some 
of  these  walls  were  buried  for  ages  until  the  spade  of 
the  excavator  revealed  them.  Others  rise  stubbornly 
in  the  daylight,  as  if  to  dispute  with  the  marble 
Propylsea  the  trophy  of  permanence.  Whatever 
myths  may  float  around  the  heads  of  these  early 
dwellers,  the  walls  they  built  are  solid  facts,  and  will 
outlast  the  trivial  masonry  of  our  day. 


94  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

Then  there  are  the  traces  of  the  devout  spirit  of 
early  Greek  occupation.  He  would  be  rash  who 
would  let  inisty  conjectures  of  how  long  Athene  or 
Artemis  had  been  worshipped  on  this  hill  harden  into 
any  rigid  chronology.  It  is  known  that  Pisistratus 
lived  on  the  Acropolis  five  centuries  and  a  half  be- 
fore the  Christian  era;  but  other  kings  and  tyrants 
had  dwelt  there  before  him,  and  this  hill  was  the 
centre  of  civil  and  judicial  life.  That  there  was  an 
early  temple  here  to  Athene  is  known,  and  in  1885 
Dorpfeld  pointed  out  its  foundations  near  the  Erech- 
theum.  The  temple  was  destroyed  in  the  Persian 
wars,  and  perhaps  rebuilt.  Then  the  conception  of 
a  magnificent  temple  farther  to  the  right,  and  cover- 
ing vastly  more  space  than  the  original  one,  took 
shape ;  and  the  foundations  were  broadly  and  strongly 
laid.  They  are  still  there ;  and  many  of  the  broken 
columns  of  this  unfinished  temple,  which  must  have 
been  attempted  after  the  Persian  War,  are  built  with 
other  fragments  into  the  north  wall  of  the  Acropolis. 
All  this  before  the  Parthenon. 

When  Pericles  began  it,  he  built  the  new  temple 
as  far  as  possible  upon  the  foundation  of  the  old 
one.  It  was  enriched  and  glorified  by  the  chisel 
of  Phidias  and  by  the  brush  of  the  painter.  It  was 
consecrated  to  the  virgin  goddess,  and  her  statue 
within  it  was  one  of  the  grandest  achievements  of 
ancient  art. 

The  Parthenon  was  completed  438  B.  c.  For  six 
centuries  it  stood  there  as  a  holy  temple  of  the  reli- 
gion to  which  it  was  dedicated.  Then  a  new  religion, 
reared  on  a  Hebrew  foundation,  and  with  a  new  virgin 
goddess,    arose,   and  in  time   the    Parthenon,  under 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  95 

Prankish  rule,  became  a  Christian  church.  The 
march  of  religions  went  on,  and  Mohammedanism 
crossed  swords  with  Christianity.  The  Turks  were 
victorious,  and  the  Parthenon  was  turned  into  a 
mosque  and  topped  with  a  minaret.  Two  hundred 
years  ago  the  Venetians  sought  to  recover  their  hold 
in  Greece.  The  Turks  who  held  the  Acropolis  stored 
their  treasures  and  their  gunpowder  in  the  Parthenon, 
just  as  the  Puritans,  a  little  earlier  on  American  soil, 
sometimes  used  their  wooden  churches  for  similar 
purposes.  To  the  credit  of  Morosini,  the  Venetian 
commander-in-chief,  be  it  said  that  he  was  reluctant 
to  bombard  Athens,  but  a  council  of  his  officers  urged 
its  capture.  The  Acropolis  was  the  key  to  the  situa- 
tion, and  a  bomb  fired  by  one  of  his  officers  fell  into 
the  Parthenon  and  exploded  the  magazine,  leaving 
the  building  a  wreck.  The  Venetians  practically 
gained  nothing.  They  left  Athens  the  following  year, 
and  once  more  a  Turkish  mosque  was  built  in  the 
Parthenon. 

The  next  sacrilege  was  Lord  Elgin's  rape  of 
Athene's  girdle  —  the  beautiful  frieze,  the  pediments 
and  metopes  of  her  temple,  which  now  enrich  the 
British  Museum  but  have  left  the  Parthenon  dis- 
robed. The  judgment  of  the  world  concerning  this 
act  has  been  various ;  but  the  English  protest  has 
nowhere  been  so  strongly  uttered  as  by  Byron  in 
flaming  poetic  curses.  When  I  saw  these  marbles  in 
the  British  Museum,  I  said,  "They  are  at  least  safe 
here  from  earthquakes,  bombardments,  and  changes 
of  weather,  and  thousands  may  see  them  who  never 
go  to  Greece."  Still,  when  I  came  to  the  Parthenon, 
the  sense  of  loss  was  too  great  to  be  satisfied   by 


96  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

that  argument.  For  the  bald  fact  remains  that  those 
who  see  the  dislocated  marbles  in  the  British  Mu- 
seum do  not  see  them  as  they  were  meant  to  be 
seen.  It  is  another  illustration  of  Emerson's  "  Each 
and  All,"  of  taking  home  a  shell  from  the  seaside. 
Those  colossal  figures  cannot  be  properly  seen  close 
at  hand  ;  still  more,  they  cannot  be  appreciated  apart 
from  the  grand  temple  for  which  they  were  made,  any 
more  than  the  Parthenon  apart  from  the  Acropolis 
on  which  it  stands  or  from  the  scenery  which  sur- 
rounds it.  They  are  jewels  plucked  from  a  coronet; 
and,  when  you  see  the  crown,  you  mourn  that  they 
have  been  torn  away. 

The  temple  did  not  escape  bombardment  from 
Greek  guns  too,  in  the  hot  days  of  the  revolution ; 
but  which  of  the  cruel  wounds  that  still  remain 
were  made  by  friends  or  foes  I  do  not  know:  the 
saddest  thing  is  that  they  are  there. 

When  one  mounts  the  Acropolis  to  view  the  Par- 
thenon, the  great  rock  on  which  it  is  built  seems 
to  be  inseparable  from  the  structure  itself.  It  gives 
it  an  elevation  and  dignity  which  it  would  not  have 
if  put  in  a  hollow  or  set  on  a  plain.  At  first  the 
visitor  may  want  to  lay  aside  every  suggestion  or 
interpolation  of  later  times  that  comes  between  him 
and  the  temple  of  Pericles ;  but  the  tides  of  history 
have  left  their  water-marks,  and  cannot  remain  un- 
read. He  finds  himself  on  this  ancient  rock  brought 
into  association  with  centuries  older  than  Pericles,  and 
with  the  twenty-four  centuries  that  have  followed  him. 
He  ascends  the  rugged  steps  which  so  many  feet  have 
trod,  and  over  which  has  passed  the  grandeur  of 
many  a  Panathenaic  procession.     He  enters  the  mag- 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  97 

nificent  gateway  of  marble,  the  Propylaea,  the  noblest 
and  most  elaborate  portal  ever  erected  by  the  wor- 
shippers of  a  Greek  deity.  He  turns  to  the  old 
Pelasgic  wall,  and  thinks  of  the  ruder  days  before 
this  later  splendor.  He  treads  with  veneration  the 
stones  which  mark  the  ancient  temple  of  Athene, 
and  stands  where  her  lofty  statue  doubtless  rose. 
The  Erechtheum  —  that  exquisite  romance  in  marble 
—  and  the  charming  temple  of  Athene  Nike  are  still 
here.  The  Parthenon  rises  grandly  over  all.  But 
on  its  cella  walls  is  the  faded  image  of  the  Virgin 
Mary  which  marks  the  advent  of  Christianity,  and 
here  and  there  the  architect  may  trace  the  vestiges 
of  the  Byzantine  church  or  the  Turkish  mosque. 
Neither  Christianity  nor  Mohammedanism  could  add 
anything  to  its  material  glory;  and  the  Parthenon  in 
strength  and  dignity  rises  calmly  superior  to  the 
parasites  which  assailed  its  beauty.  Elsewhere  Chris- 
tianity built  its  own  temples  with  a  magnificence  sur- 
passing that  of  the  Parthenon ;  but  here  on  this  grand 
old  rock  Athene  still  is  victor,  and  the  glory  of  her 
temple  reveals  to  us  the  inspiration  toward  the  beau- 
tiful and  the  sublime  which  lay  in  the  heart  of  the 
Greek  religion. 

One  of  the  first  impressions  which  the  Parthenon 
makes,  and  which  it  was  intended  to  make,  is  that 
of  simplicity,  —  a  simplicity  combined  with  strength 
and  elegance.  Here  is  none  of  the  complexity  of 
Gothic  architecture,  no  such  multiplication  of  points, 
angles,  and  mere  ornament  as  gives  over-elaboration 
and  richness  to  the  cathedral  at  Milan.  Putting  aside 
considerations  of  size    and  weight,  it   seems  to  the 

7 


98  THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

spectator  as  if  it  had  been  an  extremely  simple 
matter  to  lay  these  stones  one  upon  another,  and 
to  rear  the  columns  drum  upon  drum.  Here  is  no 
springing  arch  or  swelling  dome:  mechanically  it 
seems  to  be  but  a  glorified,  marble  log-cabin,  retaining 
in  various  details  a  strong  reminiscence  of  its  humble 
wooden  origin.  But  when  one  studies  the  temple 
carefully,  he  sees  what  a  remarkable  combination  of 
mathematical  and  mechanical  effects  was  necessary 
to  produce  the  grand  and  simple  structure  before 
him.  The  architects  never  forgot  the  observer's  eye. 
They  wished  to  produce  a  certain  effect;  but,  in  order 
to  achieve  this  in  the  mind  of  the  spectator,  it  was 
necessary  to  construct  a  different  building  from  that 
which  he  thought  he  saw.  Thus  the  observer  thinks 
he  is  looking  at  a  building  whose  beautiful  columns 
are  perfectly  straight  from  top  to  bottom.  He  pre- 
sumes that  he  is  looking  at  a  stylobate  and  steps 
built  on  horizontal  lines.  He  sees  no  signs  of  lean- 
ing in  those  strong  pillars.  Yet,  when  the  temple 
has  been  measured  foot  by  foot,  as  Penrose  mea- 
sured it,  he  finds  that  he  has  been  looking  at  a  build- 
ing whose  lines  and  angles  have  been  softened  into 
curves  so  delicate  and  beautiful  that  they  melt  imper- 
ceptibly in  the  observer's  eye. 

The  fact  that  the  end  of  the  building  Hes  deeper 
than  the  middle  was  observed  before  the  reason  was 
discovered.  Karl  Botticher  maintained  that  this  cur- 
vature had  occurred  because  the  corners  of  the 
foundation  had  settled.  An  examination  of  the  foun- 
dation showed  that  the  building  was  set  on  the  solid 
rock  and  that  it  was  impossible  for  it  to  sink  so  many 
centimetres.     It  was    maintained    by  another  that  it 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  99 

was  due  to  earthquakes;  for  hardly  any  of  the 
columns  hav,e  escaped  disturbance  of  this  sort.  But 
earthquakes  do  not  do  their  work  with  mathematical 
regularity.  It  would  have  been  a  miraculous  con- 
vulsion which  could  have  jostled  this  temple  into 
curves  of  beauty.  The  measuring  rod  showed  that 
no  part  of  the  building  was  more  perfect  in  design 
than  that  which  had  been  ascribed  to  convulsion  or 
decay. 

Every  column,  instead  of  being  a  straight  line 
from  base  to  neck,  tapers  towards  the  top  and  has  a 
gentle  swell  or  entasis.  So  slight  is  this  curve  that, 
as  Penrose  truly  says,  until  a  comparatively  recent 
period,  the  columns  were  assumed  to  be  perfectly 
straight.  And  what  is  the  object  of  this  curve?  It 
is  '*  to  correct  the  optical  illusion,  which  gives  an  at- 
tenuated appearance  to  columns  perfectly  straight." 

The  curvature  of  the  steps  is  more  easily  detected. 
It  will  be  conveyed  to  the  mind  of  the  reader  by  the 
figure  of  a  bow  which  is  already  strung.  Set  it  down 
with  the  string  parallel  to  the  floor.  The  string  forms 
a  horizontal  line,  while  the  bow  arches  above  it.  Let 
the  string  represent  the  ground  on  which  the  Par- 
thenon rests:  the  curvature  of  the  bow  will  corre- 
spond to  the  curve  of  the  stylobate  and  the  steps, 
which  rise  gently  to  the  middle,  and  then  slope  down 
as  gently  to  the  other  end.  Place  a  hat  on  the  steps 
at  one  end ;  go  to  the  other  end  and  get  down  until 
your  eye  is  on  a  level  with  the  edge  of  the  step,  and 
then  look  along  it.  You  will  not  be  able  to  see  the 
hat  at  the  other  end.  The  convex  rise  in  the  middle 
conceals  it  from  view.  Yet  comparatively  few  per- 
sons  when   they   mount   these   stairs,  suppose   that 


lOO         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

they  are  stepping  on  a  curve  instead  of  on  a  straight 
line.  Of  course,  if  the  columns  were  set  on  this  con- 
vex stylobate  without  correction,  they  would  not  be 
perpendicular  supports  to  the  roof;  they  would  lean 
in  opposite  directions.  To  secure  perpendicularity 
the  lower  drums  of  the  columns  are  made  higher  on 
one  side  than  on  the  other,  thus  offsetting  the  curva- 
ture of  the  base.  The  difference  in  the  height  of 
the  sides  is  something  like  eight  centimetres.  As 
the  architrave  is  curved  as  well  as  the  stylobate,  the 
same  correction  in  the  drums  must  be  made  at  the 
top  as  well  as  at  the  bottom.  In  addition  to  their 
own  entasis,  the  whole  line  of  columns  is  made  to  in- 
cline slightly  toward  the  building,  so  as  better  to  bear 
the  strain  of  the  roof.  Think  of  the  immense  amount 
of  work  required  to  calculate  and  secure  these  effects  ! 
It  has  been  conjectured  that  wooden  columns  may 
have  been  set  up  and  used  as  patterns  for  the  marble 
ones.  By  building  the  columns  in  sections  or  drums 
the  work  was  easier. 

The  stylobate  is  made  of  great  blocks.  The  steps 
on  the  sides  are  so  high  that  one  has  to  climb  them. 
They  were  made  for  the  eye,  not  for  the  feet.  In 
earlier  times  when  small  buildings  prevailed,  the  steps 
to  the  temples  were  made  in  a  certain  proportion  to 
the  columns.  When  the  Parthenon  was  built  this  pro- 
portion was  retained  and  the  blocks  were  too  high  for 
steps.  The  same  is  true  of  the  Zeus  Temple  at 
Olympia,  and  of  others.  Small  steps  were  therefore 
laid  at  the  entrance  between  the  larger  ones.  So 
when  the  west  end  of  the  Parthenon  was  made  the 
entrance  for  the  Byzantine  church,  small  steps  had 
to  be  interpolated  there  also. 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  lOI 

In  Greek  temples  orientation  was  of  great  im- 
portance. The  axis  of  the  temple  pointed  to  the 
rising  sun.  The  main  door  was  to  the  east,  so  that 
when  it  was  opened  on  the  high  festal  day  of  the 
goddess,  the  sun  would  shine  into  the  temple.  Pen- 
rose and  Lockyer  have  supported  this  view  by 
astronomical  calculations. 

Greek  architecture  must  be  seen  in  the  joyous  light 
of  a  Greek  sky.  The  problem,  still  inviting  discussion, 
as  to  how  the  Doric  temple  was  lighted  is  not  so 
difficult  of  solution  when  the  temple  is  set,  like  the 
Parthenon  upon  the  Acropolis,  upon  lofty  heights 
or  open  plains.  Set  it  in  the  forest  or  surround  it 
with  heavy  shade-trees,  as  some  of  the  stately  old  man- 
sions in  our  own  country,  which,  unhappily,  imitated 
the  Greek  style,  and  the  effect  is  solemn  and  gloomy 
enough.  But  in  Greece  the  flood  of  sunlight  through 
a  clear  atmosphere  is  so  intense  that,  when  it  falls 
upon  a  building  of  Pentelic  marble  like  the  Parthe- 
non, the  glare  is  too  strong  for  weak  eyes.  The 
whole  building  is  suffused  with  a  glory  which  must 
have  brilliantly  illuminated  its  colored  triglyphs  and 
sculptured  pediments. 

What  of  the  inside?  Shall  we  maintain  with 
Fergusson  that  it  was  lighted  from  the  top,  or  with 
Dorpfeld  that  it  was  lighted  only  through  the  great 
door  which  was  opened  on  festal  days?  In  support 
of  the  latter  view  the  point  has  been  made,  with 
great  truth,  that  the  penetrating  power  of  light  in 
Greece  is  so  great  that  through  a  large  door  enough 
light  would  enter  to  reveal  in  mystic  grandeur  the 
colossal  statue  of  Athene  in    the  Parthenon    or   the 


102         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

equally  great  statue  of  Zeus  in  the  temple  at  Olym- 
pia.  It  is  argued  also  that  the  Greeks  did  not  want 
in  their  house  of  God  anything  but  a  "  dim  religious 
light ;  "  and  an  American  architect  has  sought  to 
show  that  lamps  were  used  in  these  solemn  temples. 

The  great  size  of  the  door  in  the  pronaos,  some 
fifteen  feet  broad  and  thirty  feet  high,  supports 
the  theory  that  it  was  used  for  lighting  the  interior. 
There  was  a  smaller  door  by  which  the  priests  might 
enter. 

Karl  Botticher  has  advanced  the  theory  that  the 
Parthenon  \vas  not  really  a  sanctuary,  but  a  treasure 
house.  The  slight  architectural  reasons  presented 
for  this  bold  conjecture  have  been  examined  in  de- 
tail and  refuted  by  Dorpfeld.  Their  force  can  only 
be  fully  appreciated  by  those  who  are  fortunate 
enough  to  see  the  building  under  Dr.  Dorpfeld's  guid- 
ance, and  trace  with  him  its  history  revealed  in 
clamps,  tool  marks,  the  circles  on  vv^hich  missing  col- 
umns once  stood  and  the  grooves  described  by  hinged 
doors.  The  changes  made  in  the  Parthenon  by  its 
adaptation  to  Byzantine  worship  render  complex  and 
difficult  the  task  of  distinguishing  in  the  interior  be- 
tween the  original  and  the  adapted  structure.  It 
is  in  just  such  a  task  that  Dr.  Dorpfeld's  architectural 
knowledge  and  rare  powers  of  observation  find  their 
opportunity.  An  Hellenic  clamp,  a  tool  mark  or  a 
tell-tale  circle  may  show  the  age  of  a  stone  and  the 
use  that  was  made  of  it  as  clearly  as  if  the  workman 
had  written  it  in  words. 

But  I  cannot  linger  on  the  artistic  and  mechanical 
details  of  this  wonderful  temple  of  worship.  For  the 
last  hundred  years  our  knowledge  of  it  has  been  con- 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  IO3 

tinually  increasing,  and  wc  cannot  be  sure  that  we 
know  all  its  secrets  or  even  all  it  was  intended  to 
reveal.  There  is  one  spot  in  it  of  peculiar  interest. 
It  is  the  space  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the  building 
where  the  remains  of  a  strong  foundation  of  poros 
stone  and  a  square  slot  in  the  middle  reveal,  un- 
doubtedly, the  spot  where  stood  the  famous  statue  of 
Athene  wrought  by  Phidias,  on  a  frame  of  wood, 
and  covered  with  ivory  and  gold.  How  wonderful 
was  the  influence  on  the  Greek  mind  of  this  con- 
ception of  the  virgin  goddess,  and  how  remarkable 
its  influence  on  the  western  mind  when  it  passed 
into  Christianity !  Athene,  as  pictured  by  Homer, 
is  a  grand  and  beautiful  conception.  In  the  earliest 
forms  in  which  men  undertook  to  paint  or  mould 
with  the  hand  that  which  floated  as  a  vision  in  the 
brain,  we  are  struck  by  the  great  chasm  between  that 
which  they  aimed  at  and  that  which  they  achieved. 
The  literary  conception  was  high,  the  artistic  product 
low.  But  gradually  this  ideal  of  the  divinity  of  the 
intellect,  embodied  in  the  form  of  a  woman,  and 
radiating,  too,  into  gracious  charms  of  sentiment  and 
beneficence,  took  possession  of  the  eye  and  hand  of 
the  artist  as  well  as  of  the  song  of  the  minstrel ;  and 
by  and  by,  yet  as  early  as  the  fifth  century  before 
Christ,  art  rose  to  the  level  of  literature,  and  bloomed 
in  the  perfect  flower  of  the  Parthenon  and  the  won- 
drous art  of  Phidias  which  adorned  it. 

The  influence  of  this  Greek  idea  did  not  stop  here. 
In  the  fifth  century  A.  D.  the  Parthenon  became  the 
temple  of  Saint  Sophia,  and  a  few  centuries  later 
it  was  transformed  into  the  church  of  the  Virgin 
Mary.      Like    Paganism,    Christianity  could    not   be 


104         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

contented  with  a  purely  masculine  deity.  Athene, 
excluded  from  her  temple,  revenged  herself  by  re-ap- 
pearing in  a  new  guise  and  with  new  functions.  If 
the  later  Christian  homage  to  a  virgin  met  a  need  of 
the  human  heart,  who  shall  say  that  that  rendered  to 
the  Greek  virgin  was  not  as  sincere  and  inspiring? 

The  best  time  to  see  the  Parthenon  is  at  sunset  or 
under  the  silver  light  of  the  full  moon.  The  tones 
of  the  building,  weather-stained  by  centuries,  seem 
richer  and  deeper  in  the  sunset  glow;  and  the  temple 
fits  beautifully  into  the  illumined  landscape.  Take 
your  stand  at  the  southwest  corner  of  the  temple 
of  Nike.  Below  you  lies  the  theatre  of  Herodes 
Atticus,  a  little  to  the  right  the  hill  of  Philopappus, 
still  farther  Observatory  Hill,  the  Areopagus,  the 
Pnyx,  and  the  stately  Theseion.  In  the  plains  the 
fresh  green  barley  alternates  with  olive  groves  and 
brown  furrowed  fields.  To  the  left  stretches  the 
Bay  of  Phaleron,  opening  to  the  larger  sea.  Piraeus 
lies  beyond.  Here  is  the  island  of  Salamis,  there 
^gina.  The  coast  of  Attica  fades  into  the  dis- 
tance. Walking  to  the  other  end  of  the  Acropolis, 
we  see  below  the  new  Athens,  the  royal  palace  and 
garden,  and  steep  Lycabettus  rising  abruptly  from  the 
plain.  The  whole  view  is  framed  in  by  sea  and 
mountain,  —  Pentelicus,  from  whose  bosom  came  the 
milk-white  curdled  marble  with  which  these  temples 
were  reared,  Parnes,  ^galeos,  the  pass  of  Daphne, 
and,  most  familiar  of  all,  the  long  ridge  of  Hymettus. 
How  the  sinking  sun  seems  to  fondle  it,  and  how 
softly  the  mutable  colors  play  over  it,  —  gold  and 
violet  and  red,  —  melting  its  hard,  rocky  surface  into 


or  THE 

UNIYERS, 

THE  SHRINES  OF  ATTICA  I05 

geniality  and  beauty  !  In  this  sunset  glow  the  Parthe- 
non, the  magnificent  Propylaea,  the  Erechtheum,  and 
the  bewitching  temple  of  Nike  are  gilded  with  super- 
natural light,  as  if  the  sun  loved  to  heighten  their 
beauty.  And,  when  the  moon  rises  and  in  the  deep 
silence  silvers  the  old  rock  and  the  temples  upon 
it,  you  forget  the  things  of  to-day ;  and  in  the  witch- 
ery of  the  moonlight-  Athene  seems  to  come  once 
more  to  claim  her  holy  place,  and  you  are  a  willing 
worshipper  at  her  shrine. 


THE  ACROPOLIS   OF  ATHENS 
II 

THE   PROPYL^A 

Whether  it  be  a  great  book,  a  great  symphony, 
a  great  opera,  or  a  great  temple,  it  is  possible  to 
heighten  the  effect  and  the  expectation  by  a  great 
introduction.  So  Gibbon  wrote  the  introduction  to 
his  history  nine  times;  so  Beethoven  wrote  and  re- 
wrote his  overture  to  *'  Leonore ;  "  so  Wagner  scored 
his  marvellous  overture  to  *' Tannhauser "  and  his 
dreamy  Vorspiel  to  "  Parsival."  Thus  the  evangelists 
wrote  the  mystic  proem  to  John  and  the  poetic  pre- 
lude to  St.  Luke.  So,  too,  Pericles  inspired  the 
marble  proem  to  the  Parthenon. 

The  Propylaea,  as  its  simple  name  implies  (ivpo'irv- 
\aia,  the  part  before  the  gates),  is  a  prelude,  a  Vor- 
spiel, an  overture  in  stone.  It  was  built  on  the  rocky 
slope  of  the  Acropolis  and  constituted  one  of  the 
grandest  approaches  to  a  temple  ever  reared. 

In  this  matter  some  of  the  greatest  cathedrals  of 
England  and  the  Continent  are  sadly  lacking.  The 
approach  to  St.  Peter's  diminishes  rather  than  height- 
ens the  effect.  St.  Paul's,  London,  is  set  within 
the  busy  mart;  Lincoln  and  Ely  are  hedged  in 
by  other  buildings;  Cologne  needs  twice  as  much 
room.  Salisbury  is  one  of  the  few  English  cathe- 
drals which,  set  within  the  beautiful  close  of  Sarum, 
preserves  with  leisurely  greensward  and  a  fine  colon- 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  IO7 

nade  of  trees  a  fitting  prelude.  Our  own  Capitol 
at  Washington,  crowning  a  genial  acropolis,  has  also 
a  worthy  approach. 

The  Acropolis  of  Athens,  though  its  summit  was 
levelled  and  its  surface  extended,  was  too  small 
for  a  great  esplanade.  The  Propylaea  placed  on  the 
top  would  have  concealed  or  diminished  the  Parthe- 
non ;  but  it  could  be  built  on  the  stern  slope  of  the 
rock  in  spite  of  the  great  difficulties  encountered. 
This  was  not  the  first  time  that  such  an  undertaking 
had  been  successfully  attempted.  The  student  who 
has  leisure  to  study  the  Propylaea  finds  it  suggestive 
of  both  history  and  prophecy.  The  whole  Acropolis, 
indeed,  is  a  pahmpsest  of  stone  full  of  riddles  and 
revelations.  If  you  question  this  magnificent  portico, 
it  will  tell  you  four  things  at  least,  —  first,  that  there 
was  an  older  Propylaea  here  before  the  Persian  de- 
scent upon  Athens ;  secondly,  that  after  its  destruction 
by  the  Persians  it  was  restored ;  thirdly,  that  under 
Pericles  a  new  and  grander  structure  was  raised ;  and 
fourthly,  that  the  architect  did  not  complete  the  work 
according  to  his  original  intention,  but  was  obliged  to 
finish  it  provisionally  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  sacrifice 
his  more  perfect  plan. 

Only  one  of  these  things  is  immediately  obvious 
to  the  traveller,  —  the  building  he  sees  before  him ; 
the  others  must  be  painstakingly  sought  out.  To 
understand  what  is  above  the  surface,  you  must  go 
below  it.  As  the  Parthenon  does  not  wholly  efface 
the  piety  and  labor  which  were  wrought  into  the 
temples  which  preceded  it,  so  the  Propylaea  does 
not  wholly  conceal  the  foundations  of  the  building 
which  was  reared  and  sacrificed  before  it  was  con- 


I08         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

ceived.  Fresh,  vital,  and  imposing  as  is  the  later 
structure,  it  is  also  full  of  reminiscence. 

We  know,  to  begin  with,  that  here  on  the  top  of  the 
slope  of  the  Athenian  Acropolis  in  early  times  was  a 
tower  or  building ;  not  a  military  defence,  but  a  gate- 
way such  as  Pericles  erected.  We  can  see  how  the 
marble  was  worked  in  this  pre-Persian  time,  how 
large  were  the  squares  of  stone.  It  was  built  in  a 
grand  way.  We  can  see  the  external  side  of  the 
old  building;  we  can  sec  the  course  of  the  protect- 
ing wall  and  how  the  old  Cyclopean  walls  were 
hidden  with  marble.  Then  we  see  how  in  the  post- 
Persian  times  Themistocles  or  some  one  else  had  re- 
stored the  ancient  structure  and  covered  it  so  as  not 
to  show  what  it  had  suffered. 

As  the  old  Propylsea  was  made  a  fitting  introduc- 
tion to  the  old  temple  on  the  Acropolis,  so  Pericles 
determined  that  the  new  building  should  be  a  suitable 
approach  to  the  new  temple.  The  Parthenon  had 
been  finished  a  year  (438  B.  C.)  before  the  Propylaea 
was  begun.  It  is  hard  to  believe  that  so  much  as  we 
see  was  built  in  five  years.  The  lines  of  the  new 
Propylaea  deflect  somewhat  from  the  old.  One  can  see 
the  inner  side  of  the  wall  of  the  earlier  building  and 
trace  its  direction,  which  was  adapted  to  the  old  way 
up  the  Acropolis.  One  understands,  too,  why  the 
Propylaea  of  Pericles  was  turned  so  as  to  harmonize 
with  the  position  of  the  Parthenon. 

The  Propylaea  is  built  of  Pentelic  marble.  It  con- 
sists of  a  great  central  wall  in  which  are  five  doors  or 
openings,  approached  through  Doric  and  Ionic  colon- 
nades, while  two  great  wings  flanking  the  entrance 
formed  large  halls  designed  for  paintings.    The  archi- 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  109 

tectural  difficulties  of  building  such  a  structure  at  dif- 
ferent elevations  on  the  upper  side  of  this  rock  were 
great  indeed,  and  the  mechanical  difficulties  of  hand- 
ling the  vast  blocks  of  marble  in  beam  and  architrave 
would  not  seem  light  to  a  modern  builder  if  his  supply 
of  steam  or  electricity  were  cut  offi  The  Greeks  must 
have  known  how  to  make  cranes  before  they  built 
temples.  That  they  knew,  too,  how  to  put  stones  to- 
gether, the  wall  on  the  south  side  of  the  Propylaea 
well  attests.  Although  earthquakes  and  explosions 
have  shattered  the  building  and  thrown  down  many 
of  its  columns,  the  joining  of  the  blocks  in  this  wall 
is  so  perfect  that  the  seams  can  scarcely  be  felt  as 
you  run  your  hand  up  and  down  the  smooth  white 
marble. 

An  interesting  feature  of  the  Propylaea,  as  of  the  Par- 
thenon, is  its  persistent  reminiscence  of  the  wooden 
structure,  especially  in  the  doors  and  doorways. 
There  are  cuttings  in  the  wall  which  seem  to  indi- 
cate the  fastening  of  a  wooden  door.  Panels  are  also 
cut  into  the  marble  in  a  way  that  would  be  meaning- 
less in  a  stone  building  except  as  they  show  how  a 
plank  could  be  set  in  and  held  against  springing. 
Wooden  doors  and  door-jambs  could  thus  have  been 
used.  But  in  some  cases  it  is  merely  servile  imita- 
tion, as  when  the  architect  in  some  of  his  pilasters 
imitates  literally  the  upright  wooden  plank  at  the  end 
of  a  wall,  whereas,  if  less  hampered  by  traditional 
forms,  he  might  have  made  something  more  beautiful. 
Dr.  Dorpfeld,  who  has  shown  in  detail  this  repetition 
and  imitation  of  the  wooden  structure,  finds  in  it  a 
proof  of  the  essential  conservatism  of  architecture. 

The  large  hall  on  the  northwest  wing  we  can  easily 


no        THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

believe  was  adorned  with  paintings.  There  are  signs 
of  nail-holes  where  the  corners  of  the  stones  come 
together,  but  we  cannot  be  sure  that  they  were  not 
made  in  later  times.  The  walls  themselves  may  have 
been  frescoed. 

It  is  a  question  whether  the  exterior  of  the 
building  was  painted.  There  are  indications  that 
not  the  whole  but  parts  of  it  were  thus  treated. 
Some  of  the  triglyphs  are  of  poros  stone.  We  can- 
not suppose  that  this  cheaper  stone  would  be  used 
in  a  prominent  and  exposed  position  in  a  marble 
building.  That  is  contrary  to  Greek  usage  and  ex- 
ample. It  might  have  been  used,  however,  if  it  were 
covered  with  stucco  and  painted.  So  long  as  wood 
prevailed  in  marble  buildings  for  beams  and  other 
purposes  it  was  painted ;  and,  when  afterward  the 
marble  structure  imitated  the  wooden  form  in  which 
it  had  its  origin,  it  was  still  natural  to  decorate 
the  same  parts.  Thus  the  triglyphs  representing  the 
ends  of  the  beams  were  colored,  and  also  the  drops. 
In  later  times,  therefore,  portions  of  the  building 
which  were  to  be  painted  could  be  made  out  of  poros 
instead  of  more  costly  marble.  Why  should  not  the 
gods,  who  see  everywhere,  approve  such  pious  econ- 
omy? At  Olympia,  for  instance,  there  was  no  Pen- 
telic  marble,  —  nothing  but  a  quarry  of  coarse  shell 
conglomerate.  When  the  great  temples  which  gave 
renown  to  that  place  were  built,  this  conglomerate 
was  covered  with  white  stucco,  which  gave  it  the 
appearance  of  marble.  Such  a  veneer  the  gods 
could   not  disdain. 

Grand  as  was  the  Propylaea,  there  is  evidence  that 
the   plan    of  the    architect  was  still   grander.     The 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  m 

southwest  wing  was  evidently  intended,  when  the 
plans  were  drawn,  to  be  as  large  as  the  northwest  wing. 
Mnesicles  had  laid  it  out  without  perhaps  consider- 
ing how  far  it  would  interfere  with  monuments  and 
offerings  already  in  existence  and  thus  encounter 
conservative  or  priestly  opposition.  When  this  op- 
position was  aroused  he  was  therefore  obliged  to 
finish  it  off  in  a  provisional  way.  He  assumed,  how- 
ever, that  its  final  completion  was  only  a  matter  of  time 
and  so  finished  it  in  a  manner  that  would  not  interfere 
with  his  plan  when  work  was  resumed.  This  is  hinted 
in  the  character  of  the  pilaster  at  the  end  of  the 
southwest  wing.  It  was  evidently  set  up  so  that  later 
it  might  bear  an  architrave,  like  the  pilaster  on  the 
opposite  wing.  This  was  the  architect's  expectation. 
One  of  the  columns  was  left  unfinished  at  the  bot- 
tom, to  be  ''  worked  off,"  as  the  artisan's  habit  was, 
after  the  upper  part  was  completed. 

Pericles  and  his  architect  at  this  south  side  of  the 
building  probably  ran  against  two  rather  hard  ob- 
stacles :  one  the  old  Cyclopean  wall  which  crossed 
the  hill  at  this  point,  the  other  the  indurated  preju- 
dice of  the  priests.  Both  were  made  of  traditional 
material,  and  of  the  two  the  religious  prejudice  was 
no  doubt  the  more  stubborn. 

The  architect  temporarily  accommodated  himself 
to  both.  The  wall  of  the  wing  was  cut  off  sharp 
where  it  met  the  Cyclopean  wall.  We  can  easily 
imagine  the  arguments  the  priests  advanced  against 
extending  this  building  so  as  to  interfere  with  estab- 
lished monuments  and  sacred  precincts.  We  meet 
the  same  arguments  to-day  against  the  introduction 
of  new  and  more  beautiful  and  equally  devout  ideas, 


112         THE  TSLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

whether  framed  in  words  or  in  marble.  But  the  same 
reverent  conservatism,  more  intelHgent  and  clear- 
eyed,  has  also  protected  us  against  inroads  of  vandal- 
ism and  hideous  innovations  in  art  and  religion. 

Dr.  Ddrpfeld  has  developed,  with  fascinating  proba- 
bility, the  thought  of  the  architect  not  only  in  regard 
to  this  southwest  wing,  but  concerning  a  larger  plan 
for  the  whole  structure.  As  you  go  around  to  the 
external  wall  of  the  north  wing,  where  it  stands  ex- 
posed towards  the  east,  you  see  a  cornice  or  frieze 
on  the  outside  that  was  obviously  intended  for  the 
interior  of  a  room.  In  the  middle  there  is  a  square 
hole  in  the  upper  wall,  for  a  beam  or  stringer. 
There  is  a  corresponding  hole  on  the  south  side. 
These  and  other  prophetic  details  indicate  that  a  hall 
as  large  as  that  of  the  northwest  wing  was  to  flank 
the  gateway  and  fill  out  the  corner  on  the  northeast. 
Symmetry  would  require  another  room  to  fill  out  the 
southeast  corner,  and  thus  the  great  central  gateway 
would  have  been  flanked  by  two  large  halls  on  each 
side,  filled  with  votive  paintings.  That  would  have 
meant  a  partial  encroachment  on  the  sacred  precincts 
of  Artemis  Brauronia,  and  undoubtedly  the  removal 
of  some  of  the  statues  which  Pausanias  mentions. 

Though  noble  in  intention  and  execution,  the  Pro- 
pylsea  is  distinguished,  too,  by  a  fitting  humility; 
the  roof  rises  no  higher  than  the  stylobate  of  the 
Parthenon.  It  was  built  in  subordination  to  the 
building  for  which  it  was  the  prelude.  It  was  made 
not  to  dwarf  or  darken  the  supreme  temple,  but  to 
lead  up  to  it.  The  Propylaea  is  the  beautiful  frontlet 
on  the  stern  brow  of  the  Acropolis,  —  the  Parthenon 
is  still  the  crown  of  Athene's  holy  hill. 


NIKE    BINDING    HER    SANDAL. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  II3 

Close  to  the  south  wing  of  the  Propylaea,  and 
involved  with  it  in  questions  of  structure  and  chrono- 
logical precedence,  is  the  beautiful  little  Temple  of 
Athene  Nike,  or  the  ''  Wingless  Victory,"  as  it  is  com- 
monly and  less  accurately  called.  This  temple  is 
so  small  that  it  might  be  put  into  a  corner  of  the 
Parthenon.  It  is  only  eighteen  feet  wide  and  twenty- 
seven  feet  long ;  and  its  Ionic  columns  are  but  thir- 
teen and  one-quarter  feet  high.  It  was  removed  from 
the  corner  of  the  Acropolis  to  make  place  for  a 
Turkish  battery ;  but  afterwards  the  scattered  blocks 
of  the  temple  were  found  and  laid  up  again  by  loving 
hands,  so  that  we  have  substantially  the  original 
building,  though  we  cannot  fully  reconstruct  with 
the  imagination  the  beautiful  friezes  which  once 
adorned  it.  Some  of  the  exquisite  reliefs  from  the 
balustrade  are  in  the  Acropolis  Museum,  and  among 
them  the  cow  led  by  two  Victories,  and  the  graceful, 
airy  Victory  assumed  to  be  binding  her  sandal,  — 
though  ladies  of  our  party  insisted  that  a  sandal 
could  not  be  fastened  with  one  hand,  and  that  she 
was  probably  untying  or  adjusting  it. 

If  the  Parthenon  is  grand,  the  Erechtheum  is 
poetic.  The  Parthenon  reveals  the  nobility  of  the 
Doric  order;  the  Erechtheum,  the  beauty  and  grace 
of  the  Ionic.  Who  has  not  seen  pictures  or  repro- 
ductions of  the  stately  Caryatides?  Lord  Elgin  kid- 
napped one  of  them,  but  it  has  been  restored  in 
terra-cotta.  Another  mutilated  member  of  the  sex- 
tette has  been  pieced  out,  so  that  the  original  im- 
pression of  these  six  Grecian  maidens  supporting  the 
roof  of  the  temple-porch  is  substantially  renewed 
for  the  spectator.     When  I    see   them,  I    recall  the 

8 


114         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

strong,  beautiful  peasant  girls  of  Gastouri  in  Corfu, 
who  walked  with  their  jars  of  water  on  their  heads,  as 
if  they  were  entirely  unconscious  of  the  burden.  So 
these  *'  Maidens  of  the  Porch  "  hold  up  the  entablature 
with  perfect  grace  and  ease,  as  if  they  hardly  knew  it 
was  there. 

The  Erechtheum  is  a  gem  of  refinement  and  deli- 
cacy. It  was  set  on  the  most  sacred  site  of  the 
Acropolis,  the  spot  where  tradition  places  the  famous 
contest  between  Athene  and  Poseidon  for  supremacy 
at  Athens.  We  know  more  about  this  old  legend  than 
about  many  features  of  the  exquisite  building  whose 
architectural  details  repay  a  careful  study.  It  is  inter- 
esting to  have  a  Doric  and  an  Ionic  temple  confront- 
ing each  other.  They  were  consecrated  to  the  same 
deity,  but  as  they  represented  different  orders  of  ar- 
chitecture, so  likewise  there  may  have  been  a  trace  of 
**  denominational"  difference  in  their  worship,  or  they 
may  have  fulfilled  different  functions.  Was  it  on 
theological  grounds  that  Cleomenes,  the  king  of 
Sparta,  —  Dorian  we  may  suppose  to  the  backbone, 
—  was  refused  admission  to  the  Ionic  shrine?  Or 
had  local  and  poHtical  differences  more  to  do  with 
it?  Just  what  was  the  relation  of  the  Erechtheum  to 
the  Parthenon  is  a  subject  still  under  discussion.^ 

Like  the  Parthenon,  the  Erechtheum  was  used  later 
as  a  Christian  church.    By  the  irony  of  fate  the  beauti- 

1  In  a  lecture  given  at  the  American  School  of  Classical  Studies, 
Athens,  March  i,  1894,  Professor  John  Williams  White,  of  Harvard 
University,  reviewed  in  detail  the  evidence  from  Greek  authors  and 
inscriptions  concerning  the  meaning  of  "The  Opisthodomos  at  the 
Acropolis  at  Athens,"  and  reached  the  conclusion  that  6  6Tri(T(>6SoiJ.os, 
without  further  designation,  refers  not  to  a  part  of  the  Parthenon  but 
to  a  separate  building. 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  II5 

ful  *'  Maidens  of  the  Porch  "  were  doomed  also  to  sup- 
port the  Turkish  harem  into  which  a  portion  of  the 
temple  was  converted.  But  centuries  of  service,  cen- 
turies of  enforced  publicity,  have  not  bent  their  forms, 
reduced  their  vigor,  nor  divested  them  of  maidenly 
grace  and  charm.  And  down  there  in  the  lower  city 
I  can  show  you  Greek  maids  and  matrons  who  are 
to-day  heroically,  gracefully  and  strongly  upholding 
the  architrave  of  public  duty;  who  are  bearing  with 
patriotic  courage  burdens  which  disaster  and  war  have 
brought  upon  the  home  and  the  state,  yet  who  have 
lost  no  womanly  grace  or  serenity  in  fulfilling  the 
tasks  they  have  so  cheerfully  assumed.  The  strong 
maidens  of  the  Upper  City  have  come  down  to  the 
plain. 


THE   ACROPOLIS   OF    ATHENS 

in 

"  Master,  behold  what  manner  of  stones  and  what 
manner  of  buildings !  "  were  the  words  of  one  of  the 
disciples  to  Jesus  as  they  came  out  of  the  temple ; 
and  Josephus  has  told  us  how  great  some  of  the 
stones  of  the  Jewish  temple  were.  It  is  interesting 
right  in  the  midst  of  the  Gospel  record  to  find  this 
note  of  astonishment  and  admiration  evoked  by  the 
grand  and  beautiful  in  art.  The  more  I  climbed  the 
Acropolis  the  more  I  repeated  the  exclamation  of 
the  wondering  disciple  at  Jerusalem,  "  Behold  what 
manner  of  stones  and  what  manner  of  buildings  !  '* 

Where  too  can  one  find  more  eloquent  fragments  ? 
Is  there  any  place  where  stones  have  more  secrets  to 
tell  to  one  who  takes  pains  to  study  their  language  ? 

As  we  came  from  the  Parthenon  one  afternoon. 
Dr.  Dorpfeld  called  our  attention  to  the  large  drum 
of  a  column  which  lay  near  by.  It  had  been  rejected 
by  the  architect  because  it  was  not  true.  We  know 
that  in  the  building  of  one  of  the  temples  it  was  ex- 
pressly stipulated  that  all  stones  should  be  inspected 
by  the  chief  architect  and  those  that  were  not  perfect 
should  be  thrown  out.  Under  this  alert  inspection  no 
careless  or  slovenly  contractor  could  have  his  bill 
audited  for  imperfect  work ;  the  rejected  stone  could 
not  become  the  head  of  the  corner,  nor  find  a  place 
anywhere   else  in  the  building.     For   centuries  this 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  11/ 

drum  has  lain  there  as  a  rebuke  to  imperfection  and 
a  mute  witness  to  the  vigilance  and  fidelity  of  the 
architect. 

Few  stones  here  seem  to  have  forgotten  their 
history.  Most  of  them  can  tell  us  what  they  did  or 
were  meant  to  do.  It  is  curious  how  the  master 
architect  can  reconstruct  an  ancient  building  from  a 
mass  of  stones  and  fragments  as  the  master  zoologist 
can  reframe  an  extinct  animal  from  a  heap  of  bones. 
Some  of  these  fragments  still  preserve  organized  rela- 
tions. They  lie  together  imbedded  in  the  rock  just 
where  they  were  placed.  From  such  a  ground  plan, 
broken  though  it  is  in  continuity  and  design,  Dorp- 
feld  has  derived  the  site,  form  and  dimensions  of  a 
temple,  older  than  the  Parthenon  and  the  Erechtheum 
and  lying  between  them.  It  was  possibly  for  a  long 
time  the  only  temple  on  the  Acropolis.  Pausanias 
mentions  the  temple  of  Athene  Polias  as  standing  at 
the  time  of  his  visit,  —  perhaps  about  175  A.D.,  —  and 
as  containing  a  statue  of  Hermes,  almost  hidden  by 
myrtle  leaves,  a  folding  chair,  the  work  of  Daedalus, 
and  spoils  taken  from  the  Persians.  This  old  temple 
had  been  partially  destroyed  by  the  Persians  at  the 
same  time  with  the  old  Erechtheum ;  the  walls  had 
undoubtedly  been  left  standing  and  it  was  in  all 
probability  promptly  rebuilt  by  the  Athenians.  The 
Parthenon  was  not  finished  till  some  years  later,  and 
we  cannot  suppose  that  Athene  was  without  a  temple 
on  the  Acropolis  in  the  mean  time.  There  are  still 
many  questions  under  dispute  concerning  the  age, 
name  and  functions  of  this  temple,  and  among  them 
whether  Athene  Ergane  —  Athene  as  patroness  of  art 
and  invention  —  was  worshipped  under  that  aspect  in 


Il8  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

this  assumed  temple  of  Athene  PoHas,  or  whether,  as 
some  maintain,  a  separate  building  dedicated  to  her 
in  this  character  was  erected  in  another  precinct.  No 
trace  of  such  temple,  at  all  events,  has  been  found. 

Of  the  many  statues  on  the  Acropolis  mentioned 
by  Pausanias,  the  pedestals  of  some  have  been  identi- 
fied and  the  position  of  others  may  be  conjectured 
Not  far  to  the  left  of  the  way  from  the  Propylsea  to 
the  Parthenon  was  the  pedestal  of  the  great  statue 
of  Athene  Promachos,  made  by  Phidias  from  Persian 
spoil.  The  goddess  in  war  vesture  stood  with  her 
spear  in  poise.  The  statue  was  no  doubt  colossal,  for 
Pausanias  tells  us  that  one  could  descry  the  spear- 
head and  helmet  crest  as  he  sailed  from  Sunium  to 
Athens.  This  type  of  Athene  is  a  familiar  one, 
often  reproduced  in  small  bronze  figures,  which  are 
not  necessarily  replicas  of  the  statue  of  Phidias,  but 
older  representations  of  a  generic  conception  of  the 
goddess  as  defender  and  protector. 

The  Acropolis,  consecrated  to  religion  and  the 
State,  reveals  few  traces  of  the  earlier  days  when  it 
served  as  the  abode  of  man.  Not  far  from  the 
Erechtheum,  however,  an  old  house  wall  has  been 
brought  to  light.  In  the  vicinity  are  a  large  number 
of  roof  tiles  of  pre-Persian  date,  which  seem  to  be  as 
fresh  as  if  made  to-day.  The  building,  whatever  it 
was,  for  which  they  were  used,  was  probably  erected 
only  a  short  time  before  the  Persian  War,  and  when 
it  was  destroyed  these  bricks  or  tiles  were  buried,  and 
so  preserved.  In  this  heap  of  tiles  we  have  material 
for  a  whole  chapter  on  ancient  roofs.  It  is  easy  to 
distinguish  between  the  flat  ones  and  those  evidently 
intended   for  roofing.      In  ancient  times  house-tops 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  II9 

were  covered  with  earth.  This  is  well  established 
from  a  study  of  the  older  temples.  The  construc- 
tion of  the  roof  of  the  Doric  temple  was  a  hard 
problem  at  first  for  those  who  maintained  the  deri- 
vation of  the  Doric  style  from  the  wooden  structure. 
It  could  not  be  explained  by  any  device  or  applica- 
tion of  stone.  Then  it  was  seen  that  originally  the 
roof  was  partly  wood  and  partly  clay.  The  heavy 
mass  of  earth  required  beams  of  great  strength. 
When  they  were  imitated  in  stone  they  were  at  first 
made  ponderous,  afterwards  much  lighter.  With 
earthen  roofs  it  was  desirable  of  course  to  have  a 
sufficient  fall  to  shed  the  rain.  If  the  pitch  was  too 
great  the  earth  was  washed  off.  This  led  to  the  in- 
troduction of  terra-cotta  tiles,  which  would  allow  a 
steeper  incline ;  they  were  for  the  most  part  bent  or 
curved,  the  better  to  carry  off  the  water.  The  intro- 
duction of  marble  roofing  dates  from  a  much  later 
time. 

The  Acropolis,  as  I  have  before  intimated,  was 
not  a  plateau  to  begin  with ;  the  summit  had  more  or 
less  pitch.  An  old  Pelasgic  or  Cyclopean  wall  of 
large  unwrought  stones  formed  a  defensive  barrier. 
When  afterwards,  in  the  fifth  century  before  Christ, 
it  was  determined  to  level  the  rock,  the  space  between 
the  external  wall  and  the  summit  had  to  be  filled  in. 
For  this  purpose  many  scattered  fragments  were  used ; 
bases  of  statues,  broken  columns,  pieces  of  sculpture 
and  everything  else  obtainable,  were  thrown  in.  Thus 
the  forward-looking  Athenians  builded  better  than 
they  knew;  for  things  which  had  ceased  to  be  inter- 
esting to  them  have  proved  to  be  very  interesting  to 
us  when  upturned  by  the  archaeologist's  spade. 


120         THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

On  the  north  side,  not  far  from  the  Erechtheum, 
were  unearthed  votive  statues  which  had  been  burned 
or  thrown  down  by  the  Persians.  These  bronzes, 
statues,  toys,  terra-cotta  figures  and  other  things 
brought  to  Ught  by  the  excavations  on  the  Acrop- 
oHs,  are  now  housed  in  the  Museum  there.  They 
furnish  interesting  material  for  a  comparison  of 
pre-Persian  with  later  Greek  art.  Here  are  rude 
representations  of  Athene  and  other  gods  in  which 
the  stone  serves  rather  to  imprison  the  divine  con- 
ception than  to  give  it  freedom.  This  may  be 
due  less  to  poverty  of  conception  than  to  imperfect 
execution;  it  was  the  sculptor  feeling  after  God  if 
haply  he  might  find  him.  Here  are  sitting  figures 
which  may  be  either  goddesses  or  women;  this 
ambiguity  is  not  uncommon  or  unnatural  in  an  an- 
thropomorphic system.  The  Greeks  did  not  pro- 
fess to  know  always  a  god  from  a  man.  Some  label 
was  necessary,  —  not  always  the  name  label,  but  the 
indication  of  some  attribute.  The  aegis  of  Athene 
hung  on  her  breast  was  enough  to  say,  "  Be  rever- 
ent: I  am  a  goddess."  These  may  have  been  toys, 
they  may  have  been  symbols  of  worship  put  into 
the  graves.  As  such  some  of  them  certainly  would 
have  furnished  new  material  for  the  sarcasm  of  Isaiah. 
They  are  indications  perhaps  of  religious  feeling  six 
hundred  years  before  Christ.  As  Athene  was  the 
principal  goddess  worshipped  on  the  Acropolis,  these 
little  archaic  terra-cottas  may  have  been  votive  offer- 
ings at  her  shrine.  Undoubtedly  the  manufacturers 
made  them  by  the  wholesale  and  sold  them  at  a  profit. 
They  were  made  with  suflRcient  indefiniteness  to  suit 
a  number  of  gods.     The  reverent  purchaser  when  he 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  121 

bought   one  to  his    liking    may   have    considered    it 
Athene  or  some   other  divinity. 

The  only  deity  besides  Athene  known  to  have 
been  worshipped  on  the  Acropolis  was  Artemis.  A 
sitting;  figure  with  a  deer  on  her  arm  is  without 
doubt  a  symbol  of  this  goddess.  Attention  has  been 
drawn  to  the  relation  of  these  images  to  some  found 
at  Corfu  with  bow  in  hand,  which  likewise  take  us 
back  to  pre-Persian  times,  to  the  fifth  or  sixth  cen- 
tury before  Christ.  The  modern  drill  sergeant  who 
exhorts  his  recruits  to  step  off  with  the  left  foot  at 
the  word  "  march  "  may  find  abundant  precedent  in 
the  standing  figures  in  the  Acropolis  Museum  in 
which,  as  in  Egyptian  statues,  the  left  foot  is  ad- 
vanced. In  one  sculpture  Athene  is  mounting  a 
chariot  with  the  owl  in  one  corner ;  in  another,  the 
goddess  is  vain  enough  to  wear  earrings. 

Of  unusual  interest  are  the  fourteen  archaic  busts 
and  torsos  found  near  the  north  wall  of  the  Acropolis, 
which  still  preserve  for  us  the  complacent,  imperturb- 
able smile  they  have  worn  since  the  days  before  the 
Persian  invasion.  Are  they  women  or  goddesses? 
If  they  were  intended  for  Athene  herself,  she  was 
shorn  of  all  her  attributes.  Here  is  neither  helmet, 
spear,  owl,  gorgoneion,  nor  any  divine  sign  or  label 
by  which  to  establish  her  godhead.  In  the  period 
when  these  were  made,  the  attributes  and  insignia  of 
the  goddess  were  familiar  and  well  developed.  The 
probability  therefore  is  that  they  stand  for  mortal 
women  and  were  votive  offerings.  That  is  clear  from 
dedicatory  inscriptions  which  have  been  found,  though 
detached  from  the  statues.  These  inscriptions  show 
that  the  givers  were  in  most  cases  men.    The  marbles 


122         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

cannot  then  represent  the  persons  who  dedicate  them. 
One  inscription  is  described  as  "  tantalizing  in  its  just 
faiHng  to  explain  what  we  want  to  know."  It  seems 
to  have  belonged  to  a  statue  of  this  kind,  although 
the  pedestal  does  not  make  that  certain.  The  in- 
scription indicates  that  a  lucky  fisherman  has  made 
a  big  haul  and  set  aside  some  of  the  profits  of  his 
catch  for  a  votive  offering.  But  the  statue  is  simply 
called  a  Kovprj,  a  maiden.  That  is  all  we  know 
about  it.  Whether  it  was  a  likeness  of  his  mother, 
his  sister,  his  cousin  or  his  aunt,  he  does  not  tell  us. 
This  goes  to  show  that  these  smirking  statues  were 
not  individual  portraits,  but  rather  a  conventional 
type  of  maidenhood  dedicated  to  Athene.  How  it 
was  that  a  maiden  statue  was  offered  to  Athene  some 
experts  are  not  ready  to  say.  I  do  not  venture  an 
explanation  against  their  prudent  agnosticism ;  but  as 
Athene  was  herself  a  grey-eyed  maid,  the  patroness 
of  the  arts  of  peace,  in  whose  honor  the  Athenian 
maids  embroidered  the  peplos  for  the  Panathehaic 
procession,  the  dedication  of  a  maiden  statue  does 
not  seem  inappropriate  at  the  shrine  of  the  virgin 
goddess.  These  pleasant  women  of  the  Acropolis 
have  an  importance  worthy  of  their  sex  in  the  light 
they  throw  upon  early  Greek  costumes. 

A  boy's  head  in  marble,  in  this  collection,  shows 
fresh  emancipation  of  artistic  skill  and  but  a  quaint 
reminiscence  of  the  old  formalism.  *'  It  is  the  prom- 
ise and  potency  of  things  to  be,"  said  a  friend,  "  which 
appeal  to  us,  together  with  the  refined  beauty  of 
form  and  the  pensive  expression." 

The  beautiful  mural  tablet  of  the  so  called  "Mourn- 
ing Athene  "  which  was  found  built  into  a  wall  inside 


THE   MOURNING   ATHENE. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  123 

the  ancient  Parthenon,  presents  the  goddess  in  a  less 
famihar  attitude.  It  is  not  known  exactly  when  the 
wall  was  built,  so  we  cannot  infer  the  date  of  the 
relief  from  that.  It  is  of  Pentelic  marble  and  shows 
Athene  standing  in  front  of  a  stele,  or  grave  monu- 
ment. She  leans  forward,  apparently  resting  on  her 
spear,  her  weight  on  her  right  foot,  and  the  left  just 
touching  the  ground.  As  the  marble  has  been 
chipped  we  cannot  tell  whether  her  spear  is  re- 
versed or  not.  She  wears  a  long  Doric  chiton  and 
a  Corinthian  helmet;  the  head  is  represented  in 
profile. 

Three  theories  have  been  presented  as  to  the  sig^ 
nificance  of  this  tablet.  One  is  that  Athene  is  here 
the  guardian  of  the  Acropolis,  —  a  view  which 
has  little  support.  The  second  supposes  that  the 
goddess  is  mourning  over  a  stele  on  which  are  en- 
graved the  names  of  those  fallen  in  battle.  The 
third  conceives  her  as  guardian  of  a  stele  on  which 
a  law  is  engraved,  depicting  her  thus  as  the  pro- 
tector of  the  law.  I  cannot  myself  escape  from  the 
mournful  expression  of  the  face.  To  be  sure  the 
gods  have  reason  enough  in  these  days  to  be  mourn- 
ful over  bad  laws,  but  knowing  Athene  as  I  do,  I  am 
convinced  that  anger,  not  grief,  would  have  been 
the  result  of  asking  her  to  guard  a  bad  law,  and  we 
should  have  had  a  broken  tablet,  recalling  the  one 
which  Moses  in  his  wrath  let  fall  on  the  mount.  The 
advocates  of  the  third  theory  explain  the  sad  face 
of  the  goddess  by  saying  that  it  is  a  type  charac- 
terizing the  reaction  against  the  smile  which,  though 
a  relief  from  early  formalism,  had  been  overdone. 
As    to   the   pose,  they   maintain   that   other    statues 


124         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

which  do  not  suggest  grief  have  similar  attitudes,  and 
that  no  conclusion  can  be  drawn  from  it. 

If  I  speak  last  of  the  twenty-two  slabs  of  the  Par- 
thenon frieze  it  is  because  they  should  be  the  climax 
in  any  scale  of  life  and  beauty  of  the  art  treasures 
on  the  Acropolis ;  and  if  I  speak  of  them  less,  it  is 
because  they  are  probably  most  familiar  to  my  read- 
ers. Even  more  than  the  grouping  of  the  gods  on 
the  frieze  do  I  enjoy  the  apotheosis  of  the  cavalry 
procession.  When  before  or  since  have  horses  been 
summoned  out  of  stone  into  more  Hfe,  freedom, 
strength  and  variety  pf  motion,  or  riders  invested 
with  more  grace  and  beauty?  When  the  bicycle,  the 
horseless  carriage,  the  electric  car  and  the  locomo- 
tive shall  have  wrought  their  last  mechanical  ravage 
and  made  the  horse  as  extinct  as  the  dodo,  the 
Parthenon  frieze,  if  it  has  not  crumbled  into  dust, 
will  be  his  most  perfect  epitaph. 

Old  as  are  the  temples  made  by  hands  and  dedi- 
cated to  Athene  on  the  Acropolis,  there  are  still 
older  shrines.  The  grottoes  of  Apollo  and  of  Pan 
on  the  north  side  of  the  hill  recall  the  time  when 
nature  worship,  from  which  much  of  the  later  my- 
thology was  derived,  found  its  sanctuary  in  rocks  and 
caves,  springs  and  groves.  The  consecrated  mag- 
nificence of  later  temples  did  not  extinguish  this  tra- 
ditional feeling.  Votive  offerings  were  made  at  these 
nature  shrines.  On  the  same  side  of  the  rock,  and 
not  far  from  the  grottoes  of  Pan  and  Apollo,  was  the 
ancient  well,  Clepsydra.  The  spring  which  feeds  it  is 
still  flowing;  though  lost  for  a  time,  in  the  revolution 
of  1822  the  Greeks  rediscovered  it  and  drank  of  its 
water  as  their  remote  ancestors  had  done.     Was  it  in 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 25 

rivalry  of  pagan  devotion,  or  because  something  of 
the  old  pagan  mystery  or  nature  love  was  preserved 
in  Greek  Christianity  that  a  Byzantine  chapel  with  its 
painted  saints  was  set  in  this  hollow  of  the  rock,  as 
on  the  south-side  grotto  of  the  Acropolis  a  votive 
lamp  is  kept  burning  for  an  obscure  Christian  saint? 
Like  the  water  from  this  celebrated  spring,  the  old  is 
perpetually  bubbling  up  into  the  new ;  Christianity 
still  feeds  its  baptismal  fonts  from  pagan  springs. 

It  Is  time  to  go  down  from  the  consecrated  rock. 
Greece  is  more  than  Athens  and  Athens  is  more  than 
the  Acropolis.  But  how  much  of  Greece,  the  old  and 
the  new,  is  here  !  Where  can  one  find  so  large  a 
panorama  of  history  painted  on  so  small  a  canvas? 
The  mountains,  the  isles  and  the  sea  have  their  story 
to  tell,  and  the  sun  will  set  for  you  to-day  with  as 
much  beauty  as  it  set  for  Pericles,  but  it  will  light  up 
for  you  a  picture  that  Pericles  could  not  see.  You 
can  look  down  the  long  vista  of  Greek  life.  You 
can  see  the  birth  and  growth  of  a  religion.  It  takes 
refuge  in  the  rocks  and  groves  and  streams;  its  ex- 
panding life  struggles  to  utter  itself  in  forms  of  beauty 
and  grandeur.  How  rude  and  pitiful  its  first  efforts ! 
It  shapes  the  clay  into  conventional  moulds.  But  its 
genius  finds  new  liberation,  and  with  grace,  beauty 
and  rising  apostrophes  of  form  and  color  wrought  in 
snowy  marble,  incarnates  its  vision  of  Eternal  Beauty. 
If  you  look  at  these  melodies  of  curve  with  the  eye 
only,  you  will  miss  half  their  significance.  To  us  they 
are  studies  in  artistic  form  and  feeling ;  to  those  who 
wrought  them  they  were  a  part  of  their  religion. 

Again,  you  may  see  the  drama  of  history  and  life 


126  THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

which  for  centuries  was  acted  on  the  slope  and  on 
the  plain  and  then  rewoven  into  the  civilization  and 
destiny  of  Europe.  This  Cyclopean  wall  rebuilds  for 
you  the  ruder  life  of  a  primitive  age  with  its  piracy 
and  pillage,  the  foundation  of  the  citadel  of  Athens, 
mythical  and  half-mythical  figures  floating  before  you 
in  mists  of  tradition,  —  Cecrops,  Erechtheus,  Pan- 
dion,  Theseus.  Out  of  social  chaos  and  tribal  con- 
flict come  organized  society  —  law  and  law-makers, 
Draco  and  Solon.  The  long  strife  for  liberty,  for 
democratic  self-government,  for  federal  unity,  begins 
with  the  Greek  struggle  foi;  nationality  still  continued 
to  our  day.  We  turn  toward  Marathon  and  Salamis 
and  see  brave  little  Athens  staying  the  tide  of  Persian 
invasion  and  winning  for  Europe  and  for  all  time  the 
victory  it  had  won  for  Greece. 

The  Cyclopean  wall  builders  have  gone,  but  the 
intellectual  power  of  Themistocles  is  perpetuated  in 
the  Long  Walls  which  stretch  to  the  Piraeus  and 
bind  Athens  to  the  sea.  The  Acropolis,  once  a 
fortress,  is  turned  into  a  sanctuary.  Pericles  and 
Phidias  in  the  efflorescence  of  genius  reveal  the 
golden  age.  Beauty  blossoms  not  alone  in  marble, 
but  in  literature,  in  tragedy,  comedy,  philosophy, 
poetry  and  song.  Down  there  to  the  left  vast  and 
delighted  audiences  listen  to  the  tragedies  of  Sopho- 
cles and  Euripides  or  laugh  at  the  telling  comedies 
of  Aristophanes.  Off  to  the  north,  looking  down 
from  the  hill,  is  Colonus,  the  home  of  Sophocles, 
and  near  to  it  the  leafy  grove  of  Academos,  whose 
name  by  the  fortune  of  history  has  become  forever 
linked  with  science  and  education.  Here  Plato  un- 
folds the  lofty  scheme  of  his  ethics  and  philosophy. 


THE   SHRINES    OF  ATTICA  12/ 

This  Athenian  Mount  of  Olives  has  also  its  cross 
and  its  Golgotha.  Below  in  the  market-place 
Socrates  teaches  lessons  of  life  and  happiness,  point- 
ing sometimes  to  this  precipitous  rock  with  its  two 
roads,  one  of  which  could  be  chmbed  with  difficulty, 
while  the  other,  a  broader,  winding  way,  could  be 
trod  with  ease.  His  prison  may  not  have  been  in 
the  rocky  chamber  to  which  tradition  assigns  it,  but 
the  name  and  the  place  perpetuate  the  memory  of 
his  witness  to  the  truth,  and  sadly  remind  us  that 
paganism  like  Christianity  had  its  martyrs,  and  that 
Athens  like  Jerusalem  was  a  slayer  of  prophets. 

The  voice  of  Demosthenes  from  the  old  bema  pro- 
claims a  new  danger  to  Greek  liberty.  The  Arch  of 
Hadrian,  the  Odeion,  the  Tower  of  the  Winds,  the 
Temple  of  Olympian  Zeus,  and  far  away  the  monu- 
ment of  Philopappos,  show  how  Rome  the  conqueror 
sat  at  the  feet  of  Athens. 

Over  against  the  rocky  Acropolis  stands  the  rocky 
Areopagus,  where  Paul  gives  his  famous  address  to 
the  crowd  which  gathers  round  him.  Paganism  and 
Christianity  on  these  two  rocks  face  each  other.  **  I 
perceive  that  in  all  things  you  are  very  mindful  of 
the  gods,"  says  the  preacher,  looking  at  the  forest  of 
statues  and  the  beautiful  temples  and  recalling  the 
altar  to  the  Unknown  God.  Who  among  the  crowd 
at  his  feet  dreams  that  the  Gospel  of  "  this  vain  bab- 
bler "  shall  find  its  swift  and  triumphant  vehicle  in 
the  Greek  tongue  and  the  spear  of  Athene  Promachos 
be  beaten  into  a  Christian  sword?  *'We  will  hear 
thee  concerning  this  yet  again,"  say  some  of  the 
listeners.  Four  centuries  later  the  Neo-Platonists  still 
build  their  bridge  between  Plato  and  Paul. 


128  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

A  misty  veil  drops  over  the  scene.  The  hght  of 
Athens  pales.  Goths  and  barbarians  sweep  down 
upon  it.  The  scimitar  of  the  Turk  flashes  in  the 
sky  and  the  long  niglit  comes, 

Greek  nationality  is  not  dead,  but  sleeping.  It 
rises,  struggles,  bursts  its  bands,  gathers  its  scanty, 
blood-stained  robes  about  it  and  takes  again,  by 
sufferance,  its  humble  place  among  the  kingdoms  of 
the  earth.  There  is  a  new  Athens,  an  Athens  of 
to-day,  and  as  we  walk  to  the  Belvedere  on  the  eastern 
verge  of  the  Acropolis  we  may  hear  a  locomotive 
whistle  and  see  the  electric  lights  gleaming  in  the 
streets  below. 


GRAVE    RELIEF.       ATHENS. 


ATTIC   GRAVE   RELIEFS 

The  average  modern  graveyard  is  neither  cheerfu\ 
nor  interesting.  Artistically,  most  cemeteries  are  a 
failure,  which  is  only  atoned  for  when  the  beauties  of 
nature  offer  compensation  for  poverty  of  art.  Our 
gravestones  serve  to  mark,  for  the  most  part,  the  rest- 
ing-places of  the  dead.  They  are  monotonous  enough. 
Occasionally,  wealth  may  command  artistic  talent  and 
produce  something  more  beautiful,  though  it  is  very 
apt  to  take  a  conventional  or  traditional  form,  and 
represent  a  broken  shaft  or  some  impossible  winged 
angel  pointing  to  an  open  Bible. 

The  Greeks,  on  the  other  hand,  had  a  more  inter- 
esting and  cheerful  way  of  commemorating  the  dead. 
I  have  found  little  in  the  way  of  sculpture  at  Athens 
which  more  appealed  to  me  than  the  grave  reliefs  still 
standing  in  the  old  cemetery  and  the  large  and  fine 
collection  oistelce^  or  tombstones,  in  the  National 
Museum. 

One  could  not  avoid  the  cemeteries  in  the  old  time ; 
for  the  Greeks,  as  also  the  Romans,  had  the  custom 
of  burying  the  dead  outside  the  city  gates,  along  the 
great  highroads.  That  was  a  road  over  which,  in  life 
or  death,  every  one  must  pass.  The  chief  street  of 
this  kind  left  in  Greece  is  the  "  Street  of  Tombs " 
outside  the  Dipylon,  or  double  gateway,  of  Athens. 
Most  of  the   monuments  unearthed    have   been  re- 

9 


I30         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

moved  to  the  Museunl ;  but  enough  are  left  in  place 
to  revive  the  impression  which  they  must  have  made 
twenty  odd  centuries  ago. 

The  Greeks  did  not  mean  that  this  highway  of 
tombs  should  be  a  vale  of  tears,  or  that  the  passer-by 
should  have  to  whistle  to  keep  his  courage  up.  They 
did  not,  therefore,  except  in  a  very  few  instances, 
represent  death :  they  pictured  life.  Whether  it  was 
the  life  here  or  the  life  hereafter  is  a  debatable  ques- 
tion; but,  at  all  events,  it  was  life^  —  such  scenes  and 
groups  and  companionships  as  are  familiar  now  and 
here,  and  such  as  we  should  like  to  have  repeated 
in  the  life  to  come.  The  departed  person  is  seldom 
represented  alone,  but  nearly  always  appears  as  one 
of  a  pair  or  group.  In  some  of  these  reliefs  the 
avoidance  of  the  slightest  allusion  to  death  in  feature, 
act  or  situation  is  striking.  Thus,  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  monuments  in  the  cemetery  is  that  to 
Hegeso.  A  woman  is  sitting  in  a  chair,  while  her 
female  slave  stands  before  her  holding  an  open  toilet- 
box.  Both  faces  are  fixed  upon  the  casket  and  its 
contents,  as  if  this  were  the  one  thing  of  interest. 
Apparently,  the  toilet  is  completed,  and  only  the  jewel 
or  ribbon  which  the  mistress  is  selecting  is  needed 
to  finish  her  preparation.  But  her  preparation  for 
what?  Is  she  getting  ready  for  death  or  for  life?  If 
for  death,  where,  according  to  modern  ideas  and  exi- 
gencies, are  the  doctor  and  the  priest?  The  subject 
is  treated  too  seriously  for  us  to  assume  that  the  artist 
or  the  person  who  dedicated  the  tomb  was  having 
a  fling  at  women  in  picturing  love  of  dress  as  '^  the 
ruling  passion  strong  in  death."  This  is  not  meant 
to  be  a  death  scene.     It  is  not  exceptional  in  type 


TOMB    OF    HEGESO.       AlHENS. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  I31 

or  character,  but  one  of  a  class  in  which  the  toilet- 
case  or  the  mirror  is  frequently  introduced. 

The  difficulty  of  regarding  this  as  a  scene  in  the 
next  life  is  evident.  Or  did  the  Greek  faith  insist 
on  slavery  and  toilet-making  in  heaven?  And  which 
slavery  is  it  worse  to  perpetuate,  — that  of  the  servant 
to  her  mistress,  or  the  slavery  of  the  mistress  to  the 
Goddess  of  Fashion?  But  these  scenes  were  less 
complex  than  with  such  casuistry  we  are  capable  of 
making  them.  They  were  as  simple  and  natural  and 
human  as  the  daily  life  they  describe. 

On  one  of  the  tombs  is  a  monument  of  a  valorous 
young  Athenian  named  Dexileos,  who  won  his  laurels 
during  the  Corinthian  War,  394  B.  C.  Mounted  on  a 
spirited  horse,  he  is  striking  down  a  foeman,  who  falls, 
half  recumbent,  beneath  his  horse's  feet.  An  inscrip- 
tion identifies  the  hero  and  the  deed.  In  this  case  it 
is  clear  that  the  tomb  is  a  monument  to  a  military 
hero.  It  signalizes  the  deed  which  made  him  famous, 
and  by  which  his  memory  is  to  be  perpetuated. 
This  desire  to  single  out  some  one  act  of  a  man's  life, 
or  some  professional  success  to  adorn  and  distinguish 
his  tombstone,  is  a  common  one  in  both  late  and 
early  times.  On  the  poles  of  the  scaffold  upon  which 
the  Sioux  Indians  elevate  their  dead  on  the  open 
plain,  they  mark  in  red  paint  a  record  of  some  deed 
of  valor,  —  perhaps  the  number  of  scalps  he  has  taken 
or  of  the  horses  he  has  stolen. 

To  see  the  grave  reliefs  In  greatest  number  and 
variety,  and  to  study  their  significance,  we  must  go 
to  the  National  Museum.  Many  as  there  are,  there 
would  have  been  more  Attic  gravestones,  if  a  law  had 
not  been  passed  to  restrict  their  erection.     Demetrius 


132  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

of  Phaleron  seems  to  have  been  a  funeral  reformer, 
who  forbade  the  use  of  elaborate  grave  monuments, 
and  who  thought  three  inexpensive  varieties  would 
be  enough.  It  was  probably  owing  to  earlier  interfer- 
ence with  the  stone-cutter's  craft,  and  not  to  any  pro- 
longed period  of  public  health,  that  the  production  of 
Attic  gravestones  fell  off  in  the  fifth  century,  and 
again,  after  a  period  of  reaction,  under  Demetrius  at 
the  end  of  the  fourth. 

These  tombstones  were  not  made  for  or  by  dis- 
tinguished people;  they  were  made  for  every-day 
people  by  every-day  workmen.  We  must  treat  them 
as  gravestones,  not  as  achievements  of  art.  They 
were  not  made  for  competitive  exhibition  in  this 
Museum.  Nevertheless  it  is  remarkable  to  what  an 
extent  technical  ability  had  been  developed,  and 
that  so  many  sculptors  could  be  found  in  Greece 
capable  of  doing  such  excellent  work.  Some  of 
them  pass  beyond  the  ordinary  level,  and  exemplify 
the  highest  artistic  skill. 

The  simplest  form  in  which  these  monuments  ap- 
pear is  that  of  a  slab.  In  the  sixth  century  before 
Christ  it  was  made  tall  and  narrow,  with  variations 
as  to  size  in  different  parts  of  Greece  and  in  succeed- 
ing years.  There  are  also  great  inequalities  of  depth  : 
sometimes  the  relief  is  very  deep,  sometimes  only  an 
outline.  Different  kinds  of  technique  seem  to  have 
been  in  use  at  the  same  time.  The  lower  part  was 
left  rough,  to  be  set  in  the  ground,  and  sometimes  the 
stone  was  surmounted  by  a  sculptured  gable  in  low 
relief.  Though  there  are  many  inaccuracies  in  detail, 
the  total  impression  is  often  strikingly  effective,  and 
originally  was   no   doubt   heightened    by   color.     A 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  133 

more  ambitious  and  costly  form  of  monument  was 
constructed  of  a  number  of  slabs  of  marble  framed 
together  like  a  temple  front,  and  in  this  the  com- 
memorative slab  was  set. 

These  funeral  slabs  received  various  symbolical 
decorations.  A  figure  half  woman  and  half  bird,  — 
with  human  head  and  arms,  and  bird's  wings  and 
claws,  —  a  sort  of  siren  playing  upon  a  musical  in- 
strument or  in  an  attitude  of  lamentation  is  frequently 
found.  A  lion  is  a  common  symbol.  Just  what  its 
relation  to  death  was,  it  is  not  easy  to  see ;  perhaps 
the  figure  was  simply  decorative.  On  one  tombstone 
in  the  National  Museum  the  animal  serves  as  a  pic- 
torial pun ;  the  man's  name  was  Leon,  as  the  inscrip- 
tion shows,  and  the  corroborative  figure  left  no  doubt 
about  it. 

Marble  vases  formed  another  kind  of  grave-orna- 
ment, and  were  also  of  varying  types.  Many  of  these 
amphorae  have  a  long,  slender  neck  and  flat  mouth- 
piece. Then  there  is  the  XovTpo(j)6po<;,  or  copy  of  a 
type  of  vase  with  two  handles.  From  a  passage  in 
one  of  the  orations  of  Demosthenes,  in  which  it  is 
said  that  a  certain  man  died  unmarried,  as  is  proved 
from  the  \ovTpo(f)6po<;  on  his  grave,  it  is  inferred  that 
this  form  of  two-handled  vase  is  found  only  on  the 
graves  of  unmarried  persons.  To  a  modern  reader, 
a  one-handled  vase  might  seem  to  be  a  more  appro- 
priate symbol  of  celibacy. 

When  a  grave-monument  has  but  a  single  figure, 
it  is  natural  to  assume  that  it  designates  the  one  who 
has  died.  But  where  two  or  more  persons  are  fig- 
ured, it  is  difficult  to  tell  which  was  intended  for  the 
dead.     The   Greeks  did   not  write   long  eulogies   or 


134         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

epitaphs  on  their  tombstones.  The  inscriptions  were 
mostly  confined  to  the  name.  Many  stones  have  no 
inscription  whatever ;  the  names  originally  may  have 
been  painted.  On  the  other  hand,  certain  slabs  are 
crowded  with  several  names  when  there  are  only 
two  figures.  The  explanation  of  this  redundancy 
may  be  found  in  the  fact  that  a  tombstone  made  to 
commemorate  one  person  was  afterwards  appropri- 
ated for  another.  Whether  there  was  any  legitimate 
trading  in  second-hand  tombstones  I  do  not  know; 
but  it  looks  as  if  in  some  cases  the  original  name  had 
been  chiselled  out  and  the  monument  used  by  a  later 
generation. 

The  student  of  sculpture  will  find  interesting 
material  for  technical  study  and  comparison  in  these 
reliefs,  some  of  which  show  close  resemblance  to  Par- 
thenon work,  while  in  the  later  Roman  period  the 
melancholy  degeneracy  of  art  is  evident.  But  of  far 
more  interest  to  me  are  the  questions  of  life,  death, 
and  the  life  after  death  which  these  grave  reliefs  sug- 
gest. One  of  the  most  common  motives  is  that  of 
two  persons  clasping  hands.  What  is  the  meaning 
of  the  clasped  hands?  Is  it  a  gesture  of  farewell 
from  the  departed?  is- it  the  joyous  greeting  he  re- 
ceives in  the  next  Hfe  ?  or  is  it  merely  an  expression 
of  friendship  and  affection  in  this  life,  as  when  on 
other  stones  a  woman  is  playing  with  a  pet  bird? 
These  are  questions  not  easily  answered. 

The  reasons  advanced  for  rejecting  the  first  sug- 
gestion are  that  the  clasping  of  hands  was  not  with 
the  Greeks  exclusively  or  chiefly  a  sign  of  farewell. 
Nothing  was  more  common,  however,  than  for  them 
to  clasp  hands  when  they  met.     We  find  it  on  the 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 35 

Opening  pages  of  the  Odyssey,  —  Telemachus  grasped 
the  right  hand  of  the  disguised  Athene  on  the  thresh- 
old of  his  father's  court.  Again,  it  is  clear  in  some 
cases  that  the  monument  commemorates  the  seated 
person  and  not  the  one  who  is  standing.  In  such 
cases  it  is  not  natural  to  think  that  the  sitting  figure 
represents  the  one  who  is  saying  farewell. 

There  are  many  things  pointing  strongly  to  the 
conclusion  that  these  are  simply  scenes  of  earthly 
life.  Whatever  the  meaning  of  the  clasped  hands  as 
to  time  and  place,  there  is  no  doubt  that  these  per- 
sons are  presented  to  us  in  relations  of  trust,  friend- 
ship or  affection. 

Among  the  large  number  of  Greek  grave  monu- 
ments at  Athens,  there  are  only  three  or  four  in  which 
there  is  an  evident  suggestion  of  sickness  and  death; 
and  there  are,  I  believe,  but  two  cases  known  in  which 
Hermes  is  shown  in  the  act  of  leading  persons  to  the 
lower  world. 

Curious  and  interesting  are  the  banquet  scenes 
which  form  a  common  type  in  these  grave  reliefs. 
One  figure  is  usually  reclining  on  a  couch ;  food  is 
set  on  a  table  near  by;  slaves  or  companions  are 
present,  and  sometimes  a  dog  is  munching  a  morsel 
beneath.  Other  pet  animals,  such  as  birds  or  rabbits, 
are  frequently  introduced. 

The  numerous  votive  tablets  are  hard  to  distinguish 
from  sepulchral  monuments.  We  know  little  about 
them.  It  is  possible  that  they  may  have  been  kept 
in  the  houses  of  the  survivors  in  commemoration  of 
the  dead. 

There  is  one  stone  in  the  National  Museum  on  which 
I  can  never  look  with  dry  eyes.     It  represents  a  youth 


136         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

who  has  passed  away.  His  father,  apparently,  is 
standing  opposite  him.  In  the  corner  sits  a  boy 
in  abject  grief,  which  is  shared  by  a  dog  mourn- 
fully holding  his  head  to  the  ground.  This  stone, 
softly  yielding  to  the  pressure  of  the  deepest  emo- 
tions, shows  that  the  Greeks  could  not  always  avoid 
the  sadness  of  death  by  euphemism  in  art.  Even 
marble  sometimes  melted  at  the  touch  of  grief.  The 
dog  is  no  intrusion.  The  scene  would  lose  greatly  in 
interest  and  pathos  if  he  were  removed,  because  the 
range  of  sympathy  would  be  limited.  Human  emo- 
tion seems  to  have  its  source  deeper  in  the  life  of 
nature  when  we  find  a  kindred  emotion  welling  up 
from  the  heart  of  a  dog. 

Simple  and  natural  as  they  are,  there  is  no  frosty 
hardness  in  the  reserve  of  these  grave  stones.  The 
warmth  of  life  is  felt  even  in  death ;  they  are  too  ten- 
der to  be  cold.  To  feel,  however,  the  deep  pathos 
beneath  all  the  tenderness  of  the  conception  of  death 
we  must  turn  to  Greek  literature.  From  Odysseus  in 
the  shadowy  land  of  the  dead  with  unrestrained  grief 
crying,  '*  My  mother,  why  not  stay  for  me  who  long 
to  clasp  thee !  "  down  through  the  long  vista  of  the 
Greek  anthology,  the  whole  gamut  of  sorrow  is 
touched ;  sometimes  in  soft  flute-like  strains  in  varied 
keys,  or,  as  in  the  inscription  to  the  dead  at  Ther- 
mopylae, with  the  grandeur  of  the  Eroica.  If  the 
minor  mode  is  the  natural  language  of  grief  there  are 
epitaphs  which  remind  us  that  Handel  was  not  the 
only  one  who  could  write  a  funeral  march  in  the 
major;  and  some  at  least,  as  this  of  Plato's,  fur- 
nished their  own  consolation,  singing  in  clear  hopeful 
tones  like  the  clarinet  in  the  allegretto  of  the  Seventh 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 37 

Symphony   of   Beethoven,    over  the   solemn   fateful 
rhythm  of  death: 

vvp  Be  Oavoov  Xajjiirei^  ''^aTrepo^  iv  (j)6L/jLevoL<i, 

**  Morning  Star,  that  once  didst  shine  among  the 
living;  dying,  thou  shinest  now  the  Evening  Star 
among  the  dead." 

No  sweeter  flowers  of  literature  have  been  gathered 
than  those  which  have  bloomed  on  Greek  graves. 
Their  fragrant  affection  is  often  a  tribute  more  to  the 
joy  of  life  than  to  the  sorrow  of  death. 

"  Find  no  fault  as  thou  passest  by  my  monument, 
O  wayfarer;  not  even  in  death  have  I  aught  worthy 
of  lamentation.  I  have  left  children's  children;  I  had 
joy  of  one  wife,  who  grew  old  along  with  me ;  I  made 
marriage  for  three  sons  whose  sons  I  often  lulled 
asleep  on  my  breast,  and  never  moaned  over  the 
sickness  or  the  death  of  any:  who,  shedding  tears 
without  sorrow  over  me,  sent  me  to  slumber  the 
sweet  sleep  in  the  country  of  the  holy."^ 

1  Epitaph  by  Carphyllides,  Macail's  translation. 


THE   GREEK  THEATRE 

A  PILGRIM  to  the  shrines  of  Europe  or  America 
would  hardly  include  the  theatre  or  the  ball-room 
among  them.  He  would  not  look  for  an  altar  in  the 
centre  of  the  ball-room  and  would  not  expect  per- 
formances to  begin  with  an  ascription  to  God.  The 
estrangement  between  Puritanism  and  the  theatre, 
and  between  Puritanism  and  the  dance,  has  separated 
worship  and  the  drama  so  widely  that  it  scarcely 
seems  to  one  of  Puritan  training  that  they  could  ever 
have  been  very  close  together.  In  early  Greek  times, 
on  the  other  hand,  they  were  never,  either  physically 
or  religiously,  far  apart.  Modern  reactions  have 
reduced  the  gap  to  such  an  extent  that  by  unexpected 
atavism  the  church  and  the  theatre,  of  an  amateur 
sort,  are  now  frequently  united  in  the  same  edifice, — 
the  church  in  the  foreground,  and  the  "  parish  house  " 
or  '*  parlor,"  with  its  stage  and  small  stock  of  scenery, 
in  the  background.  The  preacher  who  thunders 
against  such  **  innovations  "  forgets  perhaps  that  the 
pulpit  from  which  he  speaks  derives  its  name  from 
the  actor's  rostrum,  the  pitlpitum  of  the  Roman  thea- 
tre. When  the  church  architect  has  had  to  face  the 
problem  of  how  to  get  the  largest  number  of  people 
into  the  smallest  space  for  comfortably  hearing  and 
seeing  some  dramatic  preacher,  he  has  frequently  and 
consistently  adopted  the  amphitheatrical  form;  he 
has  built  a  Greek  theatre  with  a  Roman  stage.     The 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 39 

Greeks  did  not  build  their  temples  for  preaching,  nor 
their  theatres  for  elaborate  and  mystical  ritual.  The 
types  of  architecture  these  represented  were  as  dis- 
tinct as  their  functions.  The  attempt  to  combine 
these  functions  in  either  type  has  not  been  successful 
in  large  structures.  What  would  the  Greeks  have 
thought  of  asking  an  audience  to  hear  a  man  speak 
from  the  pulpit  in  Westminster  Abbey,  where  a  third 
of  the  people  cannot  see  the  speaker's  face  and  half 
of  them  cannot  hear  him?  When  it  was  a  question  of 
sight  and  hearing,  the  Greeks  knew  how  to  build 
an  auditorium  for  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  people. 
The  temple  and  the  theatre  were  near  neighbors,  and 
it  did  not  seem  strange  to  go  from  one  to  the  other. 
To  climb  the  Acropolis,  pass  through  the  Propylaea 
to  the  Parthenon,  and  then  to  descend  to  the  theatre 
of  Dionysus  and  hear  the  GEdipus  or  Antigone,  was 
not  to  a  Greek  an  unnatural  transition.  It  was  not 
necessary  to  go  so  far  to  pass  from  the  altar  to  the 
stage ;  for  close  to  the  theatre  of  Dionysus  were  tem- 
ples to  that  god.  Temple  and  theatre  were,  in  fact, 
both  included  in  the  sacred  precincts.  In  Roman 
times  the  theatre  was  separated  from  religious  wor- 
ship, but  not  in  the  early  Greek  days. 

With  even  more  certainty  than  we  can  trace  the 
development  of  Doric  architecture  from  the  wooden 
structure  can  we  trace  the  successive  steps  in  the 
architectural  development  of  the  Greek  theatre.  It 
was  not  an  invention  but  a  growth;  and  it  grew 
naturally  out  of  the  life,  literature  and  religion  of 
this  creative  people. 

The  Greek  theatre  had  its  origin  in  the  circular 
dance,  partly  religious   and   partly  festive,  in   honor 


140         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

of  Dionysus,  the  wine  god.  This  circular  dance  is 
among  the  oldest  Greek  customs,  and  one  which  still 
survives  with  joyful,  picturesque  vivacity.  In  early 
times  it  was  danced  round  an  altar  and  was  distinctly 
connected  with  an  act  of  worship.  Dionysus  has 
nominally  passed  away,  but  the  wine  cup  with  a  more 
holy  symbolism  is  retained  in  sacred  ritual,  and  as  if 
to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  its  religious  origin,  the 
Greeks  of  to-day  hold  their  circular  dance  at  Easter- 
tide in  front  of  the  village  church.  I  was  impressed 
with  the  survival  of  this  circular  dance  when  attend- 
ing a  Greek  wedding  conducted  in  a  home.  The 
central  table  was  converted  into  an  altar.  At  a  cer- 
tain point  in  the  service  the  priest  took  the  hand  of 
the  best  man,  he  the  hand  of  the  groom,  and  he  the 
hand  of  the  bride,  and  together  they  swung  three 
times  round  the  altar,  while  the  spectators  stood  in 
a  circle  round  the  dancers. 

On  Holy  Monday,  /caOapa  Sevrepa  in  the  calendar 
of  the  Greek  Church,  on  the  threshold  of  Lent, 
observed  with  a  formal  asceticism  by  abstinence  from 
flesh,  the  paganism  in  the  blood  breaks  out  in  a  hila- 
rious revival  of  the  ancient  dance.  A  large  number 
of  the  people  of  Athens  may  be  found  on  that  hoHday 
dancing  on  the  Pnyx,  some  hundred  yards  from  the 
spot  where  Paul  gave  his  Athenian  address. 

Similarly  in  ancient  times,  the  large  body  of  the 
inhabitants  at  first  took  part  in  these  dances.  Later 
it  became  customary  for  a  certain  number,  that  is  the 
chorus,  to  act  as  dancers,  while  a  circle  of  spectators 
was  formed  around  them  just  as  at  Eleusis  and 
Megara  to-day.  The  Greeks  not  only  preserve  this 
ancient  institution  of  the  choral  dance  but  they  keep 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  141 

the  same  name  for  it.  The  verb  to  dance  is  xop^vw^ 
and  the  noun  for  the  choral  dance  is  x^P^^^- 

When  the  circular  form  of  dance  had  become  fairly 
established,  we  should  naturally  expect  that  a  level 
spot  of  ground  would  be  chosen  or  made.  It  would 
be  natural  also  to  describe  a  circle  upon  the  ground 
within  which  the  dance  should  move.  This  was  the 
origin  of  the  Greek  orchestra  (opxvcrrpa^,  which 
simply  meant  dancing-place,  and  must  not  be  con- 
fused with  the  modern  meaning  of  the  word.  In  the 
middle  of  this  circle,  which  afterwards  came  to  be 
marked  in  some  theatres  by  a  stone  rim  or  border 
laid  in  the  ground,  was  a  small  stone  altar  upon  which 
sacrifices  were  made. 

Between  the  pauses  of  the  dance  the  leader  of  the 
chorus  probably  ascended  the  steps  of  the  altar  and 
declaimed  his  verses  in  honor  of  Dionysus,  and  per- 
haps engaged  in  dialogue  with  the  other  members  of 
the  chorus.  To  Thespis  is  ascribed  the  introduction 
of  the  first  actor,  who  represented  different  parts  in 
connection  with  the  leader  of  the  chorus.  The  first 
plays  were  extremely  simple,  chiefly  dialogue  with 
little  action  and  scenery,  but  for  dramatic  effect  it 
was  necessary  that  the  actors  should  pass  in  and  out 
of  the  orchestra.  It  was  also  desirable  that  they 
should  be  distinguished  from  the  chorus  by  dress  and 
position.  Thus  in  the  gradual  development  of  the 
drama  two  things  became  necessary,  —  first,  that  the 
actors  should  have  some  retiring  place  near  the  or- 
chestra, and,  secondly,  that  an  auditorium  should  be 
provided  for  the  great  throngs  which  these  popular 
feasts  attracted. 

The  actor's  need  was  supplied  by  the  ske7ie,  a  tent 


142  THE   TSLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

or  hut  which  ^Eschylus  is  credited  with  introducing, 
but  which  in  all  probability  was  of  much  earlier  date. 
The  actors  passed  from  this  dressing-room  to  the 
orchestra  circle.  They  acted  on  the  half  of  the  or- 
chestra nearest  the  skenCy  while  the  chorus  occupied 
the  other  half. 

For  the  spectators  the  problem  was  solved  in  the 
most  natural  way.  They  no  longer  formed  a  com- 
plete circle  round  the  orchestra.  They  wished  to 
face  the  actors.  They  would  naturally  gather  in  a 
semicircle  opposite  them ;  they  would  prefer  to  sit 
rather  than  to  stand.  Under  these  circumstances  the 
Greeks  might  have  elevated  the  whole  orchestra  and 
turned  it  into  a  stage,  leaving  the  audience  to  sit  on 
the  ground.  But  in  this  position  fully  half  the  people 
in  an  assembly  of  twenty  thousand  could  not  see,  and 
probably  nine-tenths  of  them  could  not  hear.  If  the 
stage  were  low,  those  behind  could  not  have  seen ;  if 
the  stage  were  very  high,  the  view  of  those  in  front 
would  have  been  impaired.  Acoustically  something 
was  needed  to  bring  every  auditor  within  range  of  the 
actor's  voice.  Instead,  therefore,  of  building  a  high 
stage  for  actors  and  chorus,  the  Greeks  adopted  the 
better  plan  of  elevating  the  audience,  and  so  dispensed 
with  the  stage  altogether.  The  slope  of  a  hill  was 
chosen,  and  a  large  auditorium  of  horseshoe  shape  was 
cut  out,  while  the  circle  for  the  actors  was  described 
below.  On  these  ascending  seats  every  spectator  was 
brought  within  sight  and  hearing  of  the  actors.  In  the 
highest  row  of  seats  at  Epidaurus  I  have  heard  per- 
fectly well  a  person  speaking  in  the  orchestra  below. 

To  shut  out  the  actor's  tent  from  the  view  of  the 
audience  a  wooden  wall  or  screen,  with  a  central  door 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 43 

through  which  the  actors  could  pass,  was  set  up  before 
the  Skene  and  called  the  proskenioi,  a  word  latinized 
into  prosceuiiun.  None  of  the  words,  orchestra,  scene, 
and  proscenium,  which  are  so  familiar  in  a  modern 
theatre,  are  used  to-day  in  their  original  signification. 
Different  theatres  varied  in  particular  features,  but  the 
general  plan  of  all  was  the  same,  so  that  one  which 
was  truly  Greek  could  be  easily  distinguished  from 
one  which  was  Roman. 

To  convert  the  temporary  theatre  into  a  permanent 
one  it  was  not  necessary  to  change  the  plan,  but  to 
solidify  and  elaborate  the  parts.  At  first  the  spec- 
tators contented  themselves  with  sitting  on  the  bare 
ground ;  wooden  seats  naturally  followed,  and  held 
their  place  a  long  time.  In  the  days  of  yEschylus  and 
Sophocles  the  Athenians  sat  on  wooden  benches. 
Later,  stone  steps  and  benches  were  introduced.  The 
auditorium  was  strengthened  by  a  solid  supporting 
wall,  and  divided  into  segments  by  aisles  that  served 
as  stairways.  It  was  also  divided  into  an  upper  and  a 
lower  portion  by  a  passage  called  the  diazoma.  The 
orchestra  was  preserved  as  before.  As  the  theatre 
was  uncovered,  there  was  no  protection  against  rain, 
but  to  prevent  it  from  flooding  the  orchestra  a  canal 
at  the  foot  of  the  auditorium  carried  it  off  to  an  un- 
derground drain.  The  provisional  tent  gave  way  to 
a  low  permanent  building,  and  the  provisional  screen 
to  a  marble  one  made  of  a  row  of  columns  with 
niches  for  pictures  or  statues  between  them,  and  a 
central  door  for  the  actors. 

In  none  of  the  numerous  theatres  excavated  in 
Greece  and  Asia  Minor  has  any  trace  of  a  stage 
been    found.     Recent   literary   and    architectural  re- 


144         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

searches  combine  to  prove  that  acting  in  the  Greek 
theatre  was  done  within  the  circle  of  the  orchestra, 
as  in  the  ancient  days  of  the  dance. 

The  generally  accepted  theory  that  the  Greeks  used 
a  stage  was  founded  not  upon  the  buildings  them- 
selves, whose  evidence  the  spade  has  but  lately  brought 
to  light,  but  almost  entirely  upon  the  statement  of 
Vitruvius,  a  Roman  architect,  who  wrote  just  before 
the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era.  In  an  account  of 
the  Greek  theatre  he  described  a  stage  which  he  said 
must  not  be  less  than  ten  nor  more  than  twelve  feet 
high,  adding  that  "  on  ihis  pulpitum  which  the  Greeks 
called  logcion  the  actors  performed,  while  the  chorus 
acted  in  the  orchestra." 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  accuracy  of  this 
statement  of  Vitruvius  was  impeached  almost  simul- 
taneously from  two  sides,  —  from  a  study  of  the  plays, 
and  from  a  study  of  the  theatres  where  they  were 
given.  In  1884  Dr.  Julius  Hopken  wrote  a  thesis 
on  the  Attic  theatre  in  which  he  combated  the 
view  of  Vitruvius  that  the  actors  were  on  a  high 
stage.  He  maintained  that  both  actors  and  chorus 
played  in  the  orchestra,  but  assumed  a  low  wooden 
platform.  Meanwhile  Dr.  Dorpfeld  had  been  greatly 
perplexed  in  his  excavations  of  Greek  theatres  to  find 
in  them  no  trace  of  a  stage.  He  did  find  in  nearly 
every  one  some  indication  of  a  proscenium,  which 
is  assumed  by  Haigh  ^  to  be  the  supporting  wall  of 
the  stage  itself.  Dorpfeld,  judging  solely  from  the 
stones  themselves,  could  see  in  this  proscenium  only 
the  decorated  wall,  with  a  central  door  in  front  of  the 
actors'  room. 

1  "  The  Attic  Theatre,"  by  Arthur  E.  Haigh. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  145 

Hopken's  thesis  was  not  received  with  the  re- 
spect it  deserved.  To  Dr.  Dorpfeld,  however,  it 
was  suggestive.  Approaching  the  subject  purely 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  architect,  he  had  found 
no  permanent  stage  in  the  Greek  theatre,  and  no 
indication  that  even  a  temporary  stage  was  used. 
Hopken's  study  raised  the  question  whether  the 
internal  evidence  from  the  plays  and  the  evidence 
from  the  stones  might  not  be  in  accord.  This  led 
to  a  new  study  of  the  plays  by  Dr.  Reisch,  a  col- 
laborator of  Dr.  Dorpfeld,  and  also  by  Professor  John 
Williams  White,  of  Harvard  College,  with  luminous 
results.^ 

It  may  seem  at  first  to  be  an  insignificant  matter 
whether  the  Greeks  had  a  stage  ten  or  twelve  feet 
high,  or  whether  they  had  none  at  all ;  but  when  it 
comes  to  the  interpretation  of  the  plays  the  ques- 
tion, from  a  literary  and  dramatic  standpoint,  assumes 
great  importance.  If  it  be  true  that  the  actors  acted 
on  this  high  stage  and  the  chorus  acted  below  in  the 
orchestra,  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  understand  how 
they  could  have  been  brought  into  the  close  physical 
relationship  which  the  play  sometimes  demanded. 
Thus  in  twenty-five  instances  in  the  plays  of  Aris- 
tophanes alone,  the  chorus  and  actor,  as  Professor 
White  shows,  are  at  a  given  moment  on  the  same 
level.  How  can  we  suppose,  then,  that  the  actors 
were  on  a  stage  ten  or  twelve  feet  high?  Again,  the 
Greek  proscenium,  though  long,  was  not  broad.  It 
is  apparent  that  on  a  narrow  stage  it  would  be  haz- 
ardous for  actors  to  perform  any  violent  action.     To 

1  "The  Stage  in  Aristophanes,"  Harvard  Studies  in  Classical 
Philology,  Vol.  II. 


146         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

fall  from  a  stage  twelve  feet  high  into  the  orchestra 
might  turn  comedy  into  tragedy. 

It  is  admitted  by  advocates  of  the  stage  theory 
that  there  is  occasional  necessity  for  the  mingling  of 
the  actors  and  the  chorus,  and  that  there  may  have 
been  wooden  steps  from  the  orchestra  to  the  stage. 
Wooden  steps  are  assumed,  because  in  no  Greek 
theatre  has  a  vestige  of  a  stone  staircase  been  found. 
But  the  shallowness  of  the  supposed  stage  would  be 
even  more  of  an  obstacle  if  the  chorus  were  sup- 
posed to  be  on  it.  With  that  addition  the  stage 
would  have  been  overcrowded.  There  could '  have 
been  no  gathering  around  the  actor.  It  is  not  easy 
to  see  how  a  chorus  of  twenty-four  persons  could 
have  executed  a  dance  movement  upon  the  stage, 
as  required  in  the  "  Lysistrata."  Haigh  admits  that 
*'  there  must  have  been  some  difficulty  about  the 
appearance  of  the  chorus  upon  the  stage.  Their 
presence  must  have  been  felt  to  be  an  anomaly." 
This  bewilderment  of  one  of  the  chief  advocates  of 
the  stage  theory  is  not  surprising.  It  is  not,  how- 
ever, the  presence  of  the  chorus  which  is  the  anom- 
aly, but  the  supposed  stage.  Remove  the  stage, 
and  the  difficulty  at  once  disappears. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  one  assumes  a  stage  twelve 
feet  high,  the  anomalies  multiply  rapidly.  In  the 
"  CEdipus  at  Colonus,"  when  Creon  is  attempting  to 
carry  off  Antigone,  he  is  held  back  by  the  chorus. 
If  Creon  and  Antigone  had  been  on  a  stage  twelve 
feet  high,  the  chorus  would  have  needed  gigantic  arms 
to  reach  them.  According  to  the  conventional  the- 
ory, we  must  suppose  that  the  chorus  rushed  breath- 
lessly upstairs,  and  that  the  violent  action  took  place 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 47 

on  the  narrow  stage.  The  difficulty  is  removed  if  we 
assume  that  the  actors  and  the  chorus  were  both  in 
the  orchestra.  This  argument  from  impossible  situ- 
ations is  developed  with  much  ability  by  Professor 
White  in  the  treatise  referred  to. 

Mr.  Haigh  has  rashly  ventured  to  appeal  to  the 
stones  themselves.  He  argues  from  the  plan  of  the 
theatre  at  Epidaurus,  where  the  stone  border  of 
the  circular  orchestra  comes  within  two  or  three 
feet  of  the  proscenium,  that  if  the  actors  had  stood 
in  front  of  the  proscenium  they  would  have  been 
sometimes  inside  the  stone  border  and  sometimes 
outside.  This  objection  vanishes  when  one  sees 
the  theatre  itself,  and  finds  that  this  stone  border  is 
not  elevated,  but  is  set  in  flush  with  the  ground. 
There  is  no  more  difficulty  in  crossing  it  than  there 
is  in  crossing  a  hearthstone,  or  a  chalk  Hne  in  a  tennis 
court. 

Haigh's  gravest  objection  to  the  new  view  is  the 
following :  "  In  the  Greek  theatre  the  front  row  of 
seats  was  nearly  on  the  same  level  as  the  orchestra, 
and  the  tiers  of  seats  behind  ascended  in  a  very  grad- 
ual incline.  If,  therefore,  the  actors  had  stood  on 
the  floor  of  the  orchestra,  with  a  chorus  in  front  of 
them,  they  would  have  been  hardly  visible  to  the 
majority  of  the  audience.  An  occasional  glimpse  of 
them  might  have  been  caught  as  the  chorus  in  front 
moved  to  and  fro,  but  that  would  have  been  all.  It 
is  difficult  to  believe  that  the  Athenians  should  have 
been  contented  with  this  arrangement  for  more  than 
two  hundred  years,  and  should  not  have  resorted  to 
the  simple  device  of  raising  the  actors  upon  an  ele- 
vated  platform."     This  objection,  which  is  assumed 


148         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

to  be  fatal  to  Dorpfeld's  theory,  totally  vanishes  when 
you  compare  it  with  Dorpfeld's  facts ;  in  other  words, 
when  you  appeal  to  the  building  itself.  I  have  prac- 
tically tested  this  objection  in  more  than  one  theatre, 
especially  at  Epidaurus,  where  a  number  of  archae- 
ologists entered  the  orchestra  to  represent  actors  and 
chorus.  I  took  photographs  of  this  performance 
from  different  parts  of  the  auditorium.  From  top 
to  bottom  there  was  not  a  seat  in  the  theatre  from 
which  the  actors  could  not  be  seen  and  easily  dis- 
tinguished from  the  chorus  if  they  had  been  differ- 
ently dressed.  There  was  no  need  of  a  stage,  because 
every  one  could  see,  even  those  on  the  lowest  seats. 

The  Athenians  had  a  device  for  giving  the  actors  a 
superhuman  prominence.  They  used  the  cothurnoSy  a 
boot  with  a  very  thick  sole,  ^schylus  is  credited 
with  inventing  this  likewise.  The  soles  were  made 
thicker  and  thicker,  until  the  actor  stood  high  on  a 
clumsy  stilted  boot.  Then  his  stature  was  still  fur- 
ther heightened  by  a  tall  mask  with  a  prolonged 
crown.  The  introduction  of  this  stilted  boot  seems 
to  point  distinctly  to  the  fact  that  both  actors  and 
chorus  were  on  the  same  level.  *'  This  cothurnos  was 
awkward,"  says  Haigh,  "  and  actors  had  to  be  very 
careful  to  avoid  stumbling  on  the  stage."  Very  likely, 
if  the  stage  were  twelve  feet  high.  The  use  of  such 
a  stage  as  Vitruvius  describes  was  unnecessary,  and 
would-  have  been  too  high  for  those  on  the  lower 
seats.  In  no  modern  representations  of  Greek  plays 
that  I  know  of,  has  a  stage  twelve  feet  high  been 
used  to  separate  actors  and  chorus.  It  has  been  felt 
that  such  a  stage  would  be  too  high.  In  no  Greek 
theatre  has  any  trace  of  steps  been  found  from  the 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 49 

orchestra  to  the  top  of  the  proskenion.  We  cannot 
suppose  that  wooden  steps  were  used  there.  Why 
have  a  proskenion  with  columns,  and  pictures  or 
statues  between  them,  if  they  were  to  be  hidden  by 
stairs ! 

The  arguments  for  a  stage  adduced  from  Graeco- 
Roman  vase  paintings,  in  which  comic  or  tragic 
scenes  are  staged,  are  of  Httle  force,  because  they  are 
representations  of  a  later  age  and  not  of  the  Greek 
theatre  of  yEschylus  or  Sophocles.  In  the  vast  num- 
ber of  vases  found  in  Greece  itself,  none  have  a 
stage  upon  them.  In  the  Italian  vases  appealed  to, 
there  is  no  chorus ;  they  are  not  descriptive  of  the 
Greek  theatre. 

That  the  Greeks  did  not  have  a  stage  may  be 
inferred  from  the  fact  that  they  had  no  name  for  it. 
The  word  logeion  is  first  used  by  Plutarch.  In  an 
inscription  two  or  three  centuries  older,  in  which  the 
word  appeared,  it  was  found  to  have  been  an  inter- 
polation or  restoration  of  a  later  time.^ 

There  is  little  left  in  support  of  the  stage  theory 
but  the  statement  of  Vitruvius.  Living  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  or  more  after  the  Attic  drama 
was  introduced,  he  had  seen  the  Greek  theatre,  and 
had  concluded  that  the  proscenium  was  a  stage.  He 
was  fairly  accurate  in  describing  its  height,  but  he 

1  A  few  Greek  phrases  which  might  indicate  a  stage  are  easily 
explained.  The  phrase  M  a-K-ni/rj^  does  not  necessarily  mean  "upon 
the  stage  ;  "  eVt,  with  the  genitive,  is  also  used  to  mean  "at  or  near," 
as  in  the  phrase  iwl  iroraixov,  that  is,  at  or  near  the  river;  just  as  we 
say  Stratford-on-Avon,  Boulogne-sur-Mer.  We  have  the  same  form 
in  the  Greek  expression  M  TpaireCai/,  "  by  the  tables."  In  the  same 
way  the  words  ava^aivo:  and  Kara^alvo}  are  used  figuratively,  not 
always  with  reference  to  height  or  depth,  or  literal  ascent  or  descent. 


150         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

misconceived  its  functions.  He  mistook  a  decorative 
or  scenic  wall  for  a  stage.  That  the  top  of  the 
proscenium  may  have  been  used  for  appearances  of 
the  gods,  and  occasionally  in  comedy  to  represent 
the  roof  of  a  house,  is  quite  probable,  but  that  the 
whole  play  was  acted  there  is  inconceivable. 

It  is  necessary  to  understand  the  original  con- 
struction of  the  Greek  theatre  to  understand  what 
it  afterwards  became.  The  Greek  theatre  is  the  key 
to  the  Roman.  Just  how  the  logeion  or  stage  after- 
wards appeared  is  easily  seen.  In  Roman  times  the 
chorus  disappeared  entirely,  and  the  space  which  it 
occupied  in  the  orchestra  could  be  used  for  other 
purposes.  The  Romans,  therefore,  cut  the  orchestra 
in  two  and  deepened  the  half  which  was  nearest  to 
the  spectators.  The  other  half  used  by  the  actors 
they  left  as  it  was.  The  actors  thus  stood  on  the 
same  level  as  before,  and  those  who  sat  on  the  lowest 
seat  in  the  auditorium  sat  higher  than  the  deepened 
orchestra,  and  on  the  same  height  as  the  floor  on 
which  stood  the  actors.  This  deepened  part  of  the 
orchestra  the  Romans  used  as  an  arena  for  gladia- 
torial spectacles.  Its  Greek  name  was  konistray  while 
the  part  reserved  for  the  actors  was  called  the  logeion. 
A  barrier  or  fence  was  set  between  the  arena  and  the 
auditorium,  and  doors  were  made  to  open  into  it 
from  the  side.  When  gladiatorial  exhibitions  were 
abandoned,  the  deepened  portion  of  the  orchestra 
was  filled  in  with  seats  which  were  assigned  to  sen- 
ators and  other  dignitaries.  When  musicians  were 
required,  they  may  have  sat  in  this  portion  of  the 
orchestra.  The  semicircular  platform  or  logeio7t 
(Latin,  pulpitum),  thus  created  by  sinking  one  half 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  151 

of  the  orchestra,  has  been  retained  essentially  in 
the  modern  theatre.  Musicians  now  play  in  that 
deepened  part  of  the  orchestra  once  occupied  by  the 
chorus,  and  have  taken  the  name  of  the  place  where 
they  sit.  In  modern  times,  however,  we  build  up  the 
stage  half  instead  of  lowering  the  other  half.  This 
was  also  done  in  Roman  days,  and  sometimes  the 
four  lower  seats  of  the  auditorium  were  cut  away. 
Those  who  maintain  that  the  proskenion  in  the  Greek 
theatre  was  used  as  a  stage,  are  obliged  to  answer  the 
question  why  the  Romans  did  not  take  this  stage 
already  made  and  use  it  instead  of  making  a  logeion 
out  of  the  orchestra. 

The  changes  brought  about  in  the  Greek  theatre 
by  the  Romans  were  many.  In  the  Greek  times  the 
audience  had  entered  hy  \kv^  parodoi^  or  side  entrances. 
These  entrances  remained,  but  they  were  used  exclu- 
sively for  the  actors.  Other  entrances  had  to  be 
made  for  the  audience.  An  archway  was  built  under 
the  seats  for  this  purpose.  Different  parts  of  the  thea- 
tre were  brought  into  close  relation.  The  actors'  room 
and  the  screen  before  it  were  united  and  developed. 
The  proscenium  was  built  up  into  a  high  decorated 
wall,  and  the  wings  of  the  skene  were  extended  so  as  to 
close  in  the  logeion^  which  could  also  be  roofed  over. 
This  new  structure  furnished  rooms  and  windows  for 
royal  spectators.  In  the  modern  theatre  the  name 
proscenium  is  limited  mainly  to  the  arch  over  the 
stage  and  to  the  side-walls,  fitted  with  boxes,  before  the 
curtain.  When  the  Romans  began  to  build  stone  thea- 
tres they  no  longer  chose  the  site  of  a  hill,  but  built 
them  on  level  ground,  preserving  the  ascending  audi- 
torium.    The  halls  and  colonnades  which  the  Greeks 


152  THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

had  near  the  theatre,  to  which  the  audience  might 
retreat  in  case  of  rain,  were  afterwards  included  in 
the  building  itself,  and  later  the  whole  structure  was 
roofed  over. 

From  the  simple  circular  dance  of  the  early  Greeks 
we  have  eventually  the  magnificent  opera  house  at 
Paris,  with  its  elegant  foyers^  but  enough  of  the  old 
Greek  words,  though  with  new  meanings,  —  orchestra, 
scene,  proscenium,  —  cling  to  the  structure  to  remind 
us  of  its  Hellenic  parentage. 

As  an  example  of  a  Greek  theatre,  with  all  its 
essential  features  well  preserved,  there  is  nothing  more 
beautiful  than  that  of  Epidaurus.  The  photograph 
reproduced  here  will  be  easily  understood  from  the 
foregoing  description.  The  theatre  of  Dionysus  at 
Athens  has  suffered  so  many  alterations  since  the 
days  of  ^schylus  that  it  is  difficult  to  find  the  re- 
mains of  the  ancient  structure  beneath  the  mass  of 
later  Greek  and  Roman  additions.  The  visitor  who 
to-day  steps  into  the  orchestra  of  that  theatre,  which 
the  Greek  archaeological  society  excavated,  is  standing 
on  Roman  pavement.  The  chairs,  as  some  of  the  in- 
scriptions show,  are  of  Roman  time.  Parts  of  the 
structure  go  back  to  the  time  of  Lycurgus  of  Athens 
in  the  fourth  century  before  Christ,  under  whose  ad- 
ministration the  Skene  and  other  portions  were  built 
of  stone.  As  he  looks  casually  around,  the  spectator 
will  see  nothing  that  is  older  than  the  fourth  century. 
He  will  not  find  the  full  circle  of  the  Greek  orchestra, 
but  the  half  circle  of  the  Romans  and  a  Roman 
logeion. 

If  he   wishes   to    find   the   theatre    of  Sophocles, 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 53 

Euripides,  and  ^schylus,  he  will  need  some  other 
guide  than  the  one  he  finds  at  the  hotel.  He  will 
not  have  to  walk  more  than  fifty  feet  in  any  one 
direction  after  stepping  into  the  orchestra ;  but  it  will 
take  three  hours  to  tell  the  whole  story,  and  there  is 
only  one  man  in  Athens  who  can  do  it  from  original 
acquaintance,  and  that  is  the  eminent  guide  to  whom 
this  book  is  dedicated.  Under  the  spell  of  his 
magnetic  exposition  the  broken  circle  of  the  ancient 
orchestra  is  restored,  the  logeion  swept  away,  and  the 
auditorium  divested  of  its  stony  sheathing.  Misty 
forms  of  the  past  come  up  from  their  tombs.  The 
hillside  is  thronged  once  more  with  ancient  Athenians, 
listening  with  moist  eyes  to  the  sorrows  of  Antigone 
or  shaking  their  sides  at  ''The  Knights"  or  "The 
Clouds." 

Beyond  the  wall  of  the  Roman  logeion^  almost 
hidden  from  sight,  is  a  segment  of  stone  set  deep  in 
the  ground.  A  close  examination  shows  that  it  was 
originally  part  of  a  large  circle.  This  is  all  that 
remains  of  the  orchestra  of  the  early  theatre,  but  it 
is  enough  to  tell  us  where  the  circle  must  have  been 
drawn.  Old  as  they  are,  these  stones  are  but  monu- 
ments of  a  remoter  age,  when  the  dance  of  the  wine 
god  was  held  in  these  precincts  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Acropolis.  A  few  feet  away  is  the  broken  course 
of  an  ancient  wall,  and  near  to  it  at  a  different  angle 
another,  similar  in  length,  each  belonging  to  the  foun- 
dation wall  of  an  ancient  temple.  The  material,  work- 
manship, and  orientation  show  that  one  was  much 
older  than  the  other.  Both  were  doubtless  temples 
of  Dionysus,  one  of  them  containing  a  great  statue  of 
gold  and  ivory. 


154         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

One  does  not  need  to  go  from  Athens  to  Rome  to 
see  how  the  Roman  theatre  was  developed  from  the 
Greek.  He  may  see  it  partially  in  this  theatre  of 
Dionysus,  but  more  fully  in  the  Odeion  of  Herodes 
Atticus,  a  little  further  around  on  the  same  slope  of 
the  Acropolis  —  a  theatre  built  about  60  A.  D.,  by  a 
wealthy  public-spirited  Athenian. 

Ideas  have  a  vitality  and  a  power  of  growth  inde- 
pendent of  the  material  in  which  they  are  expressed. 
Written  on  paper,  chiselled  in  stone,  spoken  on  the 
air  or  uttered  in  the  poetry  of  gesture  and  pose,  they 
may  live  in  architecture,  literature  or  tradition.  The 
germinal  idea  of  the  Greek  theatre  survives  in  them 
all.  Megara,  Eleusis  and  Athens  preserve  the  tradi- 
tion in  the  rhythm  of  the  dance.  The  material  form 
chronicled  so  beautifully  in  stone  at  Epidaurus  is 
an  example  of  Greek  architecture  which  has  found 
a  more  perfect  fulfilment  in  our  own  age.  But  the 
building  was  only  the  shell.  The  formative  soul  was 
the  drama,  ^schylus,  Sophocles,  Euripides,  Aris- 
tophanes, were  the  real  architects,  and  posterity,  with 
its  just  sense  of  value,  has  more  carefully  preserved 
their  works  than  the  theatre  in  which  they  were  first 
given  to  the  world. 


MODERN   ATHENS 

The  Acropolis  is  the  rock  on  which  the  old  Athens 
was  built :  it  is  still  the  pride  of  the  new.  No  palace 
or  dwelling  rests  on  its  summit.  That  is  now  sacred 
to  the  gods.  But  from  one  end  of  it,  which  falls  off 
abruptly,  you  get  a  fine  bird's-eye  view  of  the  new 
Athens  lying  on  the  plain  below.  The  old  Turk- 
ish city,  a  reminiscence  and  bequest  of  the  Athens 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  with  its  narrow,  crooked,  dirty 
streets  and  curious  old  houses,  clings  to  the  side  of 
the  Acropolis ;  and  one  inevitably  passes  through  it 
on  his  way  to  the  Propylsea  unless  he  takes  the  car- 
riage-road for  a  more  gradual  ascent.  The  other 
slope,  which  rises  opposite  the  Acropolis  across 
the  city,  is  the  sheer  hill  of  Lycabettus.  The  Monas- 
tery of  St.  George  remains  in  undisputed  possession 
of  the  summit,  from  which  may  be  had  another  pan- 
oramic view  of  the  city ;  and,  if  you  go  up  at  sunset, 
you  will  see  the  Parthenon  with  the  sun  sinking  be- 
hind it.  A  few  streets  slant  toward  Lycabettus ;  but 
the  main  part  of  Athens  is  built  on  the  intervening 
plain. 

Seen  from  either  hill,  Athens  is  a  clean,  white  city, 
its  atmosphere  unpolluted  by  smoke  or  fog.  It  is 
not  a  great  manufacturing  centre,  a  vast  mart  of 
trade,  but  the  political,  social  and  intellectual  capital 
of  the  Greek  nation.  In  that  respect  Athens  holds 
in  Greece  to-day  the  proud  position  that  it  once  held 


156         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

as  the  intellectual  metropolis  of  the  world,  and  neither 
Sparta  nor  ^gina  is  longer  jealous  of  its  supremacy. 
It  sustains  the  dignity  of  the  present  and  the  glory  of 
the  past  with  a  bright-faced,  attractive  grace  and  ele- 
gance which  make  it  one  of  the  pleasantest  cities  in 
the  East.  Pentelicus,  whose  vast  quarries  suppHed 
the  marble  for  the  Parthenon  and  the  Propylaea,  still 
yields  its  stores  for  pilasters  and  facades  in  the  new 
Athens ;  and  the  use  of  white  or  tinted  stucco  gives 
to  the  buildings  a  clean,  smooth  surface,  which  there 
is  no  soot  to  mar. 

The  new  city  is  laid  out  with  great  regularity.  The 
principal  streets  are  broad  enough  to  remind  an 
American  visitor  of  Washington.  They  are  partially 
macadamized,  but  not  paved.  The  wind  has  a  free 
sweep  through  them ;  and  the  main  physical  draw- 
back to  residence  in  Athens  is  the  mud  when  it  rains 
and  the  dust  when  it  blows.  In  November  and  March 
the  winds  frolic  with  wild  lawlessness,  and  the  Hebrew 
declaration,  "  Dust  thou  art,"  is  Hellenized  to  an  un- 
comfortable degree.  A  waiter  stands  with  a  feather 
duster  at  the  door  of  your  hotel  to  switch  your 
shoes  when  you  come  in ;  and  if  you  are  going  to 
buy  a  walking-suit,  whatever  may  be  your  prejudices 
in  regard  to  color,  you  will  wisely  choose  one  that 
has  natural  affinities  for  free  soil.  One  of  the  streets 
is  named  after  ^olus ;  but,  alas  !  he  does  not  confine 
his  attentions  to  that  thoroughfare,  nor  is  he  shut  up 
in  the  "Tower  of  the  Winds,"  so  called.  He  cele- 
brated the  national  fete  with  a  perfect  gale.  Hats 
flew  about  in  the  air  or  whirled  over  the  pavement; 
flags  were  torn  into  tatters ;  and  the  only  reason  for 
being  grateful  that  you  were  on  land  was  the  fact  that 


THE   SHRINES    OF   ATTICA  1 57 

you  were  not  on  the  water.  When  you  have  made 
this  reservation  in  regard  to  dust,  you  have  Httle 
occasion  to  revile  Athens  in  other  respects.  It  has 
pure  air  and  a  good  supply  of  water.  There  are 
open  squares,  and  the  palace  garden  furnishes  agree- 
able shade.  There  is  a  lack  of  shade-trees  in  many 
streets  where  they  would  be  both  pleasant  and  orna- 
mental; but  Kephisia  Street  is  beautifully  flanked 
with  graceful  pepper-trees. 

*'  There  is  a  new  Rome,"  I  said  to  a  friend.  '*  Yes, 
and  how  ugly  it  is ! "  There  is  a  new  Athens, 
too;  but  it  cannot  be  called  ugly.  It  lacks,  to  be 
sure,  that  picturesqueness,  variety,  mellowness  and 
general  flavor  of  antiquity  which  you  find  in  some  of 
the  old  Italian  cities.  These  square,  solid  white 
buildings  afe  a  trifle  monotonous;  but  they  are  re- 
lieved here  and  there  by  others,  such  as  the  Schlie- 
mann  mansion  and  some  of  the  new  houses  on 
Kephisia  Street,  in  which  there  is  a  union  of  mass 
and  elegance.  The  old  Greek  columns  are  used  spar- 
ingly in  the  new  city,  except  in  public  buildings, 
where  they  naturally  belong.  The  new  houses  are 
constructed  more  with  a  reference  to  the  necessities 
of  modern  life  than  to  the  worship  of  the  gods. 
There  is  generally  a  small  courtyard,  often  planted 
with  orange  and  lemon  trees,  through  which  one 
passes  to  the  main  entrance.  The  rooms  are  high- 
studded,  on  account  of  the  summer  heat;  and  the  bal- 
cony is  a  common  feature.  I  suspect  that  modern 
Athens,  for  the  average  resident,  is  altogether  a  pleas- 
anter,  more  comfortable  and  m.ore  beautiful  city,  as 
a  dwelling-place,  than  was  the  old  one,  except  for 
the  wealthy  classes.      Certainly,  they  did  not  have 


158         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

the  unromantic  convenience  of  street  cars  nor  the 
briUiant  glare  and  deep  shadows  of  the  electric 
light;  and  it  is  not  likely  that  sanitary  regulations 
were  as  well  attended  to.  In  the  old,  narrow  districts 
of  the  city  cleanliness  is  not  cultivated  so  much  as 
godliness. 

When  it  comes  to  pubHc  buildings,  the  new  Athens 
is  naturally  dwarfed  by  the  glory  of  the  old.  No  one 
comes  here  to  see  its  modern  structures.  The  royal 
palace,  built  by  a  German  architect,  has  all  the  dimen- 
sions of  length,  breadth  and  thickness,  but  not  beauty. 
The  cathedral  has  none  of  the  charm  of  the  little  old 
Byzantine  church  by  its  side.  The  finest  building 
is  the  Academy,  a  gift  of  Baron  Sina  of  Vienna, 
and  designed  by  a  Vienna  architect.  It  is  built 
of  Pentelic  marble,  in  a  style  which  is  historically 
and  artistically  Greek  and  whose  classic  grace  and 
beauty  have  been  nurtured  on  this  soil.  It  was  de- 
signed to  be  the  home  of  an  Hellenic  Academy  on  the 
plan  of  the  French  Academy ;  but,  though  the  build- 
ing is  there,  the  organization  is  yet  lacking.  It  would 
be  hard,  I  imagine,  for  the  Greeks  to  agree  as  to  the 
men  who  should  fill  those  vacant  chairs,  but  there  are 
some  who  would  grace  them  worthily.  The  Univer- 
sity building  is  not  great,  but  the  Greek  spirit  is 
shown  in  throngs  of  students.  Elegant  and  impos- 
ing is  the  new  library  building,  also  consistently 
Greek  in  structure.  The  National  Museum  shelters 
treasures  of  Greek  art,  and  for  this  is  admirably 
adapted  in  many  respects.  Its  collections  are  most 
of  them  the  result  of  the  modern  enterprise  and 
achievements  of  archaeological  science.  Then  there 
is  a  large  building  used  for  the  Greek  National  Expo- 


THE   SHRINES    OF   ATTICA  •     1 59 

sition,  not  far  from  the  palace,  surrounded  by  grounds 
which  furnish  a  favorite  promenade  for  Athenians. 

The  wonder  is,  not  that  Athens  has  so  Httle  to 
show  in  the  way  of  modern  buildings,  but  that  it  has 
so  much.  The  growth  of  the  city  has  been  remark- 
able. Sixty  years  ago  it  was  a  small  village  of  not 
more  than  three  hundred  houses,  and  devoid  of  even 
the  ordinary  comforts  of  civilized  life.  To-day  it  is 
a  city  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  people. 
It  has  broken  away  from  Oriental  trammels  and 
cast  in  its  lot  with  European  civilization.  Its  uni- 
versity is  conducted  by  a  body  of  professors,  most  of 
whom  have  been  educated  in  Germany  and  who  fol- 
low German  methods.  The  students  do  not  have, 
however,  that  thorough  preparation  which  German 
students  bring  to  their  university  studies.  The  work 
of  teaching  them  is,  therefore,  more  elementary  than 
it  should  be  in  a  university. 

Athens  has  three  theatres  of  good  size  for  winter 
use,  and  a  small  variety  theatre  and  several  out-of- 
door  summer  theatres.  Every  winter  there  is  a  season 
of  French  and  Italian  opera.  In  the  Old  Theatre 
plays  are  given  in  Greek,  mostly  translations  from 
the  French.  Occasionally  there  is  a  native  produc- 
tion, usually  a  patriotic  play,  in  which  the  actors 
appear  in  the  short-skirted  fustanella  dress  which  the 
Greeks  adopted  from  the  Albanians.  I  have  seen  an 
act  from  Antigone  given  as  a  prelude  to  one  of  these 
national  fustanella  plays.  The  contrast  in  style  was 
striking  enough,  but  both  were  essentially  Greek. 

In  painting  and  in  music  Athens  furnishes  no 
ground  for  comparison  with  the  great  capitals  of 
Europe.      It  has  not  had   the  wealth  to  command 


l6o         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

them,  and  has  more  wisely  devoted  its  slender  means  to 
unearthing  and  sheltering  the  treasures  of  plastic  art 
buried  in  its  own  soil.  It  has  not  even  money  to  do 
this  thoroughly,  and  must  depend  for  some  time  to 
come  upon  foreign  aid  and  co-operation  in  this  field. 
But  Greece  has  one  resource  which  is  steadily  enrich- 
ing her :  it  is  the  patriotism  and  liberality  of  wealthy 
Greeks,  some  of  whom  have  made  their  wealth 
abroad  and  who  have  reared  and  endowed  public 
buildings  of  Athens.  From  this  source  we  may 
expect  more  for  Greece  in  the  future.  Even  the 
prisons  have  been  the  subject  of  private  generosity ; 
and  I  had  a  call  from  a  gentleman  in  Athens  who 
came  to  consult  me  in  regard  to  plans  for  a  new 
reformatory  which  a  benevolent  man  had  offered  to 
the  government.  The  new  Conservatory,  or  Odeion, 
in  an  unpretentious  building,  is  conducted  by  a  Greek 
graduate  of  Munich,  and  with  some  German  instruct- 
ors on  its  teaching  force.  It  is  likewise  assisted  by 
private  benevolence.  The  piano  is  a  favorite  instru- 
ment in  Athens,  and  tyrannizes  over  the  education 
of  young  ladies  there  as  elsewhere.  There  is  a 
fairly  good  choral  society,  but  no  local  orchestra. 
A  Handel  oratorio  or  a  Beethoven  symphony  would 
be  out  of  the  question  in  Athens  for  the  present. 

With  the  exception  of  the  music  at  the  Russian 
Church,  and  an  occasional  chorus  at  the  Cathedral, 
there  is  no  ecclesiastical  music  worthy  of  the  name. 
The  droning  of  the  priests  in  the  temple  and  the 
monotonous  bacchanals  in  the  wine-shops,  are  any- 
thing but  grateful  to  a  European  ear. 

The  monuments  of  Athens,  with  its  temple-crowned 
Acropolis  and  the  rich  treasures  of  its  museums,  con- 


THE   SHRINES   OF   ATTICA  l6l 

stitute  the  chief  attraction  for  the  stranger,  when 
joined  to  the  grand  old  hills  and  the  wine-dark  sea. 
But  to  an  American  who  settles  down  here  for  six 
months  it  is  scarcely  less  interesting  to  note  the 
progressive  spirit  and  the  enterprise  which  are  con- 
stantly finding  fresh  expression  in  the  modern  Athens, 
and  to  see  the  life  of  the  old-new  nation  struggling 
through  pain  and  sorrow  into  new  importance,  —  I 
wish  I  could  say  into  new  power. 


THE   STREET  AND   THE   AGORA 

Athens  is  not  a  city  of  magnificent  distances ;  it 
does  not  take  long  to  measure  it  off  with  wheels  or 
shoe-leather.  The  difficulty  is  to  keep  mentally  in 
the  nineteenth  century  and  in  the  Athens  of  to-day. 
You  are  almost  sure  to  wander  off  into  the  Athens  of 
yesterday  and  the  day  before.  You  start  feeling  that 
you  are  contemporaneous  with  yourself  and  with 
everybody  else  whom  you  meet,  but  you  have  not 
walked  long  before  you  begin  to  ask  yourself  whether 
you  are  not  really  contemporaneous  with  some  of 
your  distinguished  and  immortal  ancestors.  Are 
you  living  your  life  backwards?  Has  the  clock 
begun  to  go  the  other  way,  or  is  it  ticking  both 
ways  at  once?  Is  this  the  present,  or  is  it  the  past? 
Or  are  both  throbbing  together?  Chronology  seems 
to  have  lost  its  sequence,  to  have  become  an  eddying 
whirl  of  repetitions  and  contradictions. 

There  would  be  no  illusion,  no  disturbance  of  your 
sense  of  identity,  if  you  were  in  a  city  wholly  of  ruins, 
like  Pompeii,  and  devoid  of  any  life  of  to-day.  Then 
you  might  hold  yourself  aloof  and  view  it  as  a 
spectator  across  the  gulf  of  centuries.  Or  if  you 
dreamed  yourself  back  into  it  and  imagined  that  you 
were  the  sole  surviving  Roman  citizen,  your  dream 
would  not  be  interrupted  by  nineteenth  century 
contradictions  and  interpolations.  There  are  places 
in  Greece  where  you  may  have  this  experience,  but 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 63 

in  Athens  your  impressions  cannot  be  kept  so  dis- 
tinct. You  are  not  visiting  a  mass  of  inert  ruins. 
The  new  Athens,  with  its  horse  cars,  steam  trams, 
electric  lights,  clean  white  buildings  and  spacious 
squares,  is  so  incisively  modern  and  progressive  that 
there  is  no  doubt  that  you  are  living  in  your  own  day. 
The  curious  thing  is  that  though  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury is  alive,  the  centuries  which  have  preceded  it  do 
not  seem  to  be  dead.  The  past  and  the  present 
interchange  their  emphasis  and  are  moving  together 
in  the  same  procession  of  events. 

This  chronological  tangle  comes  not  from  dead 
stones,  but  from  live  people.  Much  of  the  double 
impression  on  your  consciousness  is  made  through 
the  language  and  through  your  education  in  regard 
to  it.  You  have  been  taught  that  this  old  language 
was  dead  and  buried,  but  here  are  living  people 
talking  it  as  if  it  were  just  as  much  alive  as  your 
own.  The  newsboys  are  hawking  papers  through 
the  streets.  That  is  a  familiar  modern  experience, 
but  the  names  'A/CjOoVoXt?,  "Ao-tu,  YLaipoC  are  curi- 
ously ancient,  and  when  you  buy  them  and  under- 
take to  get  the  news  of  the  day  you  find  yourself 
in  a  morass  of  Homeric,  Xenophontine,  Hellenistic, 
mediaeval  or  later  Greek  words.  The  older  the 
style,  the  better  you  understand  it.  Here  is  a  vocab- 
ulary, the  growth  of  centuries.  It  is  not  a  fusion  of 
old  words  in  a  modern  crucible ;  it  is  not  philological 
junk.  The  old  words  have  not  lost  their  vitality  of 
form  or  meaning ;  they  are  simply  put  together  in  a 
different  way.  Even  when  clipped  and  elided,  you 
find  the  old  roots.  Like  the  gardener's  bulbs,  they 
are    constantly   bursting   into    new   bloom.      Noth- 


1 64  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

ing  is  more  curious  at  first  than  to  find  modern 
thought  and  events  expressed  in  such  archaic  forms. 
These  are  not  make-believe  newspapers.  The  people 
are  reading  them.  You  step  into  the  Boule  and  hear 
legislative  debates  in  the  same  tongue.  You  have 
been  used,  however,  to  studying  Greek  with  the  eye, 
not  with  the  ear,  and  at  first  the  modern  pronun- 
ciation is  so  strange  that  the  language  seems  more 
barbarian  than  Greek.  When  accent  and  emphasis 
have  become  as  familiar  to  the  ear  as  the  characters 
are  to  the  eye,  then  the  old  Greek  seems  to  be 
exuberantly  alive,  and  after  you  have  heard  a  finished 
oration  by  Trikoupes,  a  sermon  by  the  Archbishop, 
a  harangue  by  a  carnival  comedian  in  the  Agora,  a 
recitation  in  the  school,  you  become  so  thoroughly 
Hellenized,  and  so  saturated  with  antiquity,  that  you 
would  not  be  surprised  to  meet  Socrates  in  the 
Agora,  Paul  upon  the  Areopagus,  Pericles  coming 
down  from  the  Acropolis,  or  to  happen  on  Diogenes 
packed  in  his  tub. 

In  a  corner  of  the  Odeion  of  Herodes  Atticus  is 
an  enormous  earthenware  wine  jar,  a  vessel  which  still 
goes  by  its  ancient  name  of  pithos.  One  day,  as  Pro- 
fessor Dorpfeld  was  concluding  his  lecture  to  a  group 
of  archaeologists  in  the  ruins  of  the  old  theatre,  they 
were  suddenly  startled  by  seeing  a  head  thrust  out  of 
the  jar  which  lay  on  its  side.  Then  shoulders,  body 
and  legs  slowly  emerged.  Inquiry  showed  that  a 
half-witted  man,  driven  about  by  the  persecutions  of 
a  rabble  of  boys,  had  taken  refuge  in  the  old  wine  jar 
and  had  lived  there  most  of  the  time  for  two  weeks. 
A  kind  woman  had  brought  him  food  and  covered 
the   mouth   of    the  jar  with   a   curtain.     The   poor 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 65 

wretch  sadly  lacked  the  wisdom  of  Diogenes  and 
was  more  in  need  of  merciful  than  of  honest  men. 
This  modern  Greek  duplication  of  the  life  of  the  old 
cynic  I  offer  in  evidence  against  the  scepticism  of 
those  who  maintain  that  the  philosopher  could  not 
have  found  a  jar  big  enough  to  live  in ;  and  I  have 
no  doubt  that  if  we  could  have  got  at  the  philosophy 
of  this  second  Diogenes  we  should  have  found  it 
sufficiently  cynical. 

It  is  in  this  way  that  old  customs,  words,  ideas  and 
traditions  keep  popping  up  and  emerging  from  the 
human  pottery  in  which  they  have  been  bottled. 
When  you  examine  them  you  find  that  they  are  not 
dead ;  they  have  not  even  been  hermetically  sealed ; 
though  a  little  wrinkled  or  a  trifle  rheumatic,  they  are 
living  and  breathing  and  frequently  venture  out  in 
public. 

Diogenes  or  not,  you  will  not  get  very  far  in 
Athens  before  you  meet  more  congenial  notabilities. 
There,  for  example,  coming  down  the  steps  of  the 
American  Legation  is  Alcibiades.  He  is  tall,  hand- 
some, with  black  curly  hair  and  dark  eyes,  genial  in 
manner,  and  with  a  perpetual  smile  on  his  dark  face. 
He  has  an  accomplishment  which  he  did  not  possess 
twenty-three  hundred  years  ago.  He  can  speak 
French  and  English  as  well  as  Greek.  He  does  not 
concern  himself  nowadays  with  Sparta  or  Sicily; 
he  does  not  get  drunk  with  his  young  friends  and 
deface  the  statues  of  Hermes  at  Athens.  He  will 
never  be  tried  for  impiety.  He  is  the  young  and 
faithful  interpreter  at  the  American  Legation,  and 
is  soon  to  try  his  fortunes  in  the  new  world.  No  one 
would  take  him   to  be  twenty-three   hundred   years 


1 66         THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES    OF    GREECE 

old.  Then  there  is  Constantine.  Just  by  what  sign 
he  is  conquering  I  do  not  know,  but  by  the  sign  of 
the  drachma  or  the  dollar,  I  suppose.  Strange  to 
say,  Constantine  is  a  brother  of  Alcibiades,  and  it 
is  likewise  surprising  to  learn  that  they  are  both 
brothers  of  Miltiades,  who  has  given  up  soldier- 
ing and  is  devoting  himself  to  the  arts  of  peace. 
Themistocles  is  not  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  as  he 
ought  to  be,  and  he  would  not  advise  Athens  in 
these  days  to  depend  upon  ''  wooden  walls "  when 
every  other  nation  is  using  ironclads.  Leonidas,  his 
brother,  no  longer  guards  the  pass  of  Thermopylae, 
but  is  hurling  lightning  with  the  Morse  telegraph. 
As  for  Alexander,  who  is  the  brother  of  all  the  rest, 
he  is  not  hunting  men  or  beasts  in  Asia  Minor,  nor 
is  he  standing  in  front  of  the  tub  of  Diogenes.  He 
is  an  Athenian  schoolboy  riding  not  Bucephalus,  but 
a  bicycle.  Voila!  Alcibiades,  Constantine,  Miltiades, 
Themistocles,  Leonidas,  Emmanuel,  Nicolas,  Alex- 
ander,—  eight  brothers  bearing  the  name,  if  not  the 
fame,  of  statesmen  and  heroes !  May  some  modern 
Plutarch  write  their  lives.  The  single  concession 
made  to  Hebrew  and  Christian  nomenclature  in  the 
name  Emmanuel,  which  breaks  the  set,  shows  that 
the  parents  value  piety  even  more  than  symmetry. 
This  revival  of  ancient  names  is  one  expression 
of  Greek  patriotism,  and  some  of  these  boys  well 
deserve  their  heroic  names.  It  all  helps,  however,  to 
confuse  the  chronology,  as  when  Demosthenes  sent 
me  a  basket  of  fruit  by  the  hands  of  still  another 
Leonidas;  and  it  was  another  Alexander  —  Alex- 
ander the  Little  —  who  used  to  read  stories  to  me 
in  modern  Greek. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  167 

Of  course  the  heroes  and  poets  are  honored  in 
the  names  of  the  streets,  and  this  veneration  is  even 
accorded  to  the  gods.  There  is  Homer  Street, 
and  I  was  not  quite  happy  until  I  had  taken  my 
residence  upon  it;  Solon  Street,  Hermes  Street, 
and  streets  named  after  iEsculapius,  Hippocrates, 
Athene,  Constantine,  Menander,  Philip,  Theseus, 
Euripides,  Praxiteles,  Thucydides,  Aphrodite,  Ares, 
Pan,  Hebe,  Hephaestus,  Pericles,  Apollo,  Thrasy- 
bulus,  and  one  named  after  the  Holy  Apostles, 
though  none  that  I  remember  named  after  the  Vir- 
gin or  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  in  France  and  Germany. 
The  gods  might  be  jealous  enough  if  they  compared 
the  streets  named  after  them  with  their  own  preten- 
sions to  youth,  cleanliness  and  beauty.  Some  of 
these  streets  are  so  narrow  and  insignificant  that  it 
may  be  a  grave  question  whether  the  gods  were 
not  slandered  by  the  compliment.  The  Christian 
saints  are  not  wholly  forgotten,  but  the  nomenclature 
of  paganism  is  prevalent,  and  one  might  conjecture 
that  the  gods  had  left  Olympus  and  come  down  to 
dwell  with  Athene  in  her  beloved  city.  Is  there  not 
a  hotel  dedicated  to  Athene  and  one  to  Poseidon? 

Modern  topographers  of  Athens  have  disputed 
as  to  where  the  old  Agora  lay.  Some  indication  of 
its  site,  supported  by  recent  excavations,  may  be 
gathered  from  Pausanias.  The  so-called  "  Gate  of  the 
Agora  "  is  still  standing,  and  one  may  read  on  a  tab- 
let a  long  inscription  of  the  time  of  Hadrian  respect- 
ing the  market  price  of  oil  and  salt.  There  are  remains 
too  of  the  Stoa  of  Attains,  built  by  Attains  II.,  king 
of  Pergamon  (159-139  B.C.).  It  was  a  large  building, 
more  than  three  hundred  feet  long,  with  a  colonnade 


1 68         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

of  Doric  and  Ionic  shafts.  Between  the  gate  of  the 
Agora  and  the  Theseion  Dr.  Dorpfeld  and  other 
topographers  assume  that  the  old  market  undoubt- 
edly lay.  In  those  days,  as  in  ours,  the  shrines  of 
God  and  Mammon  were  not  far  apart.  Trinity  stands 
at  the  head  of  Wall  Street;  so  the  Temple  to  the 
Mother  of  the  Gods,  the  council  chamber,  with  the 
statues  to  Zeus  and  Apollo,  and  various  pictures 
and  memorials,  were  within  or  close  to  the  precincts 
of  the  old  Agora.  They  are  gone  now,  and  it  is 
not  easy  to  tell  where  they  were.  From  Greek 
literature  we  can  reconstruct,  however,  a  vivid  pic- 
ture of  the  old  Agora,  with  its  hair-dressers,  wine 
shops,  cheese  shops,  fruit  and  oil  dealers,  myrtle- 
sellers,  bakers,  perfumers,  doctors,  harness-makers, 
the  potters,  the  venders  of  ribbons  and  fillets,  the 
cooks  with  their  cooking  utensils,  the  fishwomen 
and  slaves.  We  can  see  it  and  smell  it,  and  hear  the 
sound  of  the  bell  ringing  in  the  tradesmen  and  cus- 
tomers. We  can  hear  the  buzz  of  discussion,  the 
shrill  voices  of  the  fishwives  screaming  billingsgate 
when  polite  Greek  was  too  dainty  for  their  tongues 
or  feelings.  We  can  see  the  throngs  at  full  market 
time  when  Socrates  was  pretty  sure  to  be  around 
and  the  loungers  sauntering  under  the  colonnade  or 
loafing  in  the  shops. 

The  new  market  is  not  very  far  from  the  old.  ^  It 
is  not  likely  that  the  old  Agora  was  wholly  confined 
within  certain  definite  precincts.  The  modern  Agora 
is  not  very  definite  either,  but  its  centre  of  activity 
falls  within  the  limits  of  the  old  Agora,  so  that  the 
Greeks  of  to-day  may  be  said  to  be  doing  business 
almost  over  the  very  spot  which  their  fathers  used 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  l6g 

for  the  same  purpose.  On  a  dingy  coffee-house  is 
a  daub  of  Socrates  with  so  ugly  a  visage  that  if  it 
were  possible  to  libel  the  sage  in  a  caricature  of  his 
face  we  might  think  that  the  painter  had  succeeded. 
There  are  plenty  of  loungers.  Socrates  would  have 
no  difficulty  in  drawing  a  crowd  and  Paul  would  find 
many  there  anxious  to  hear  and  learn  some  new 
thing.  There  are  others  who  sit  around  with  a  stolid 
indifference,  smoking  long  Turkish  pipes,  some  using 
their  own  amber  mouthpieces,  which  they  can  attach 
to  the  tube  and  pipe  they  have  hired,  others  disdain- 
ing such  formalities  and  puffing  freely  and  democrat- 
ically at  the  common  mouthpiece,  like  Indians  when 
they  smoke  the  pipe  of  peace.  I  cannot  say  that  I 
find  such  communism  to  my  taste.  Socrates  might 
be  surprised  enough  to  see  a  new  vender  in  the 
Agora  and  would  naturally  wonder  what  a  "  smoke 
shop,"  fcaTTvoTrcoXelov,  really  meant,  and  whether  there 
was  not  some  sophistry  in  the  term.  With  his  well- 
known  views  on  temperance  and  physical  health  we 
might  expect  from  him  a  sensible  lecture  on  this 
modern  habit. 

Most  of  the  occupations  would,  however,  be  per- 
fectly familiar  to  him,  and  most  of  the  terms  by  which 
they  are  described.  Now,  as  then,  the  wine-merchant 
is  the  olvo7r(o\r]<;,  the  bread-dealer  the  a/JTOTrcoXT;?, 
the  cheesemonger  the  Tvpo7r(o\r]<;  and  the  pottery 
shop  the  Kepa/jLOTTcoXelov.  Aristophanes  might  mock 
the  hawkers  who  go  about  crying  their  wares,  and 
Plutarch  might  complain  now,  as  then,  that  the  Agora 
is  a  noisy  place.  They  could  hardly  seek  an  article 
of  food  of  the  old  time  that  might  not  be  found  in 
the   Agora  of  to-day,  and   they  would    find   just  as 


I/O        THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

much  haggling  over  its  price.  It  is  no  longer  a 
shame  for  a  woman  to  go  to  market  in  Athens ;  but 
is  it  a  survival  of  the  old  Greek  prejudice  against 
women  engaging  in  business,  or  because  of  the  later 
Orientalism  in  which  Greece  has  been  submerged, 
that  women  are  not  generally  found  as  clerks  and 
attendants  in  the  stores  and  shops  of  Athens  ?  "  Shall 
Women  Work?"  was  a  question  thrown  open  to  pub- 
lic discussion  in  the  daily  Acropolis.  Several  hundred 
letters  were  received  on  the  subject,  and  more  than 
half  of  them  were  in  favor  of  extending  the  range  of 
women's  employments ;  and  this  change  is  certainly 
taking  place. 

Retail  dealers  and  hucksters  in  the  old  Agora  and 
the  common  pedlers  did  not  have  a  high  social 
position,  and  Socrates  would  find  that  the  word 
KairrfKo^y  huckster,  retains  much  of  its  old  meaning, 
and  that  the  adjective  KairrfkiKo^  means  rude  and 
impolite  to-day,  while  eyUTropo?,  merchant,  and  the 
derivatives  of  that  word,  are  held  in  greater  honor. 
Not  far  away  from  their  old-time  resort  one  finds  to- 
day the  trapezitaiy  the  bankers  and  money-changers. 
If  you  want  to  know  how  the  trade  winds  are  blow- 
ing, walk  through  ^Eolus  Street  (the  "  Street  of  the 
Windy  God"),  —  the  fluctuations  of  the  drachma  are 
a  pretty  good  gauge.  Sitting  out  on  the  sidewalk 
are  the  money-changers.  A  small  table  supports  a 
glass  case  in  which  their  money  is  displayed.  They 
do  not  sit  in  the  temple  or  in  its  immediate  court, 
but  the  church  is  not  far  away,  and  the  tables  at 
which  they  sit  bear  the  same  name,  rpuTre^a,  as  in 
New  Testament  days.  Indeed,  this  word  used  by 
the   money-changer   for   his    table   has   come  to   be 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  I71 

the  Greek  word  for  bank,  just  as  the  English  word 
bank  is  derived  from  the  money-dealer's  bench. 
This  is  the  Athenian  Wall  Street,  and  not  a  little 
speculation  is  based  on  the  ups  and  downs  of  the 
drachma.  The  larger  hotels  and  merchants  with 
foreign  trade  fix  their  prices  on  a  gold  basis.  In 
the  smaller  shops  and  at  the  market  Greek  paper  is 
taken  at  its  face  value.  The  market  soon  adjusts 
itself  to  any  rapid  change  in  prices,  but  railroad  rates 
and  many  other  fixed  charges  are  reckoned  in 
drachmas;  and  as  gold  is  sometimes  at  a  premium 
of  from  sixty  to  eighty  per  cent  the  holders  seek 
to  sell  it  at  a  good  advantage. 

In  the  ancient  Agora  different  sections  were 
assigned  to  diff'erent  goods,  as  in  the  best  markets  the 
world  over.  And  so  to-day  they  are  grouped  with 
more  or  less  definiteness  in  the  streets  of  Athens. 
The  Bon  Marche  and  the  Magazin  die  Louvre  or 
the  Wanamaker  establishment  embracing  the  whole 
range  of  human  wants  have  not  absorbed  and  di- 
gested the  small  dealers,  and  these  may  be  found  in 
large  numbers  grouping  their  specialties  in  diff'erent 
streets.  They  are  more  picturesque  in  the  poor  part 
of  the  city.  The  winding  lanes  lined  with  little  open 
shops,  the  out-of  door  fruit  markets  and  the  tempting 
sidewalk  display  of  baskets,  pottery  and  embroidery 
seemed  to  have  a  strange  fascination  for  Mavilla  and 
Taphylle.  They  soon  labelled  the  picturesque  streets 
with  names  of  their  own.  What  they  called  the 
"  Street  of  the  Red  Shoes  "  was  their  favorite.  Up 
and  down  both  sides  of  the  alley  hung  rows  and  rows 
of  bright  red  shoes  dangling  from  the  eaves  of  the 
open  shops  and   dancing   perpetually  like  those  in 


1/2         THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

the  fairy  tale.  They  are  of  all  sizes  and  of  all 
qualities,  but  all  of  the  Greek  national  type,  —  red, 
stitched  with  yellow,  with  silk-tufted  toes  which  are 
turned  up  somewhat  in  the  Elizabethan  style.  "  A 
few  loungers  in  fustanella,"  says  Mavilla,  "  leaned  in 
the  doorways,  playing  with  their  beads  and  talking 
politics  with  the  shoemakers  within.  Before  we  had 
walked  half  the  length  of  the  street,  however,  the 
shoemakers  jumped  from  their  benches,  the  loungers 
turned  to  stare,  and  we  were  suddenly  surrounded 
and  assailed  with  the  cries  of  '  Madama.'  At  once 
the  sleepy  street  was  in  a  state  of  excitement.  For- 
eign customers  were  coveted  prey  and  must  be  cap- 
tured. We  usually  took  refuge  in  the  nearest  shop, 
leaving  the  rival  dealers  looking  round  the  corner 
till  we  should  emerge.  Though  apparently  there 
was  nothing  for  sale  but  red  shoes,  it  was  marvellous 
what  quantities  of  other  things  the  jealous  shop- 
keepers brought  into  the  street  and  flaunted  before 
our  bewildered  eyes."  Another  street  near  by  Ma- 
villa named  the  "  Street  of  the  Anvil."  Here  they 
used  to  watch  the  coppersmiths  hammer  their  pretty 
wares,  or  hunted  for  curiosities  in  the  old  iron  shops,  or 
went  into  the  dingy  bell-foundry  to  buy  tinkling  goat 
bells.  ''  There  was  always  a  goat  in  the  shop,  and  I 
never  knew  whether  he  was  kept  as  a  milliner's 
model  to  try  on  the  bells  or  to  eat  up  the  iron  filings 
which  fell  to  the  floor."  Nothing,  however,  seemed 
to  exercise  such  a  mysterious  charm  over  these 
young  ladies  as  a  pottery  shop,  devoted  to  every 
form  of  earthenware.  Just  how  many  of  these  shops 
the  family  supported  while  in  Athens  I  will  not  ven- 
ture to  say,  but  Taphylle's  ambition  was  not  satisfied 


THE   SHRINES    OF  ATTICA  1 73 

until  she  had  secured  in  Greece  a  pithos  nearly  as 
large  as  the  one  used  by  the  modern  Diogenes,  and 
ever  since  it  came  to  her  home  the  question  has  been 
what  to  do  with  it. 

The  Boulevard  of  the  University  and  the  Boulevard 
of  the  Academy  are  two  of  the  broadest  and  finest 
avenues.  Stadion  Street  is  one  of  the  busiest,  but 
many  large  houses  and  bookstores  have  sought  the 
protection  of  Hermes. 

Specialization  is  carried  so  far  that  there  are 
Athenian  bakers  who  confine  themselves  wholly  to 
the  making  of  bread,  which  is  shaped  frequently 
into  great  rings  almost  large  enough  to  pass  over 
one's  head.  Peripatetic  street-hawkers  are  common 
enough;  street  cries  of  every  sort  make  music  on 
the  air.  Peddling  is  not  confined  to  transient  and 
perishable  commodities  such  as  fruit  and  fish.  There 
are  few  things  which  are  not  sold  by  these  street 
venders.  You  might  find  one  of  them  confining 
himself  wholly  to  stockings;  another  perambulates 
the  fashionable  streets  almost  buried  under  a  load 
of  ready-made  shoes.  Can  it  be  that  the  ancient  and 
honorable  families  at  Athens  buy  their  foot  gear  in 
this  way,  or  is  the  vender  basing  his  hopes  upon  the 
domestics?  In  the  market  proper,  flowers  and  chap- 
lets  are  sold  as  in  the  old  time,  and  many  of  them  are 
used  now,  as  then,  for  religious  purposes. 

In  the  old  Agora  cooks  could  be  found  with  their 
utensils  ready  to  sell  their  services.  I  was  surprised 
to  find  how  much  public  cooking  is  still  done  in  the 
market  and  on  the  streets.  Some  of  these  profes- 
sional cooks  go  about  with  stoves  on  wheels.  The 
stove  is  made  of  sheet  iron.     There  is  a  glowing  fire 


1/4         THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

of  coals  inside,  and  above  it  are  four  spits  arranged 
side  by  side,  on  which  beef,  cut  up  into  small  pieces, 
is  spitted  and  roasted.  Charcoal  fires  and  braziers, 
over  which  meals  are  cooked,  may  be  found  on  the 
streets,  but  they  are  most  numerous  round  the  Agora, 
where  broiling  fish  and  meat  constantly  blend  their 
gastronomic  incense.  In  this  soft  and  genial  climate 
why  should  a  shoemaker  work  indoors,  when,  like 
Hans  Sachs,  he  can  just  as  well  work  out  on  the 
street?  There  are  many  other  craftsmen  who  follow 
his  example. 

The  slaves,  thank  Heaven,  have  gone  from  the 
markets,  but  there  are  plenty  of  boys  with  baskets 
who  are  ready  to  take  home  the  provisions  which 
the  man  of  the  house  has  bought  on  his  way  to 
business. 

To  see  the  streets  and  the  Agora  at  the  liveliest 
time,  one  must  stroll  through  them  at  Christmas  or 
New  Year's  or  at  the  height  of  the  Carnival.  The 
Christmas  festival  does  not  really  culminate  until 
New  Year's.  Far  more  presents  are  given  then, 
and  the  jollity  reaches  a  higher  pitch.  The  streets 
of  the  Agora  are  hardly  big  enough  for  the  crowd 
and  trade  is  still  more  sharply  specialized.  The 
bread-dealer  has  added  vastly  to  his  stock,  and  the 
occupation  of  certain  other  bakers  consists  wholly 
in  selling  New  Year's  cake  marked  with  the  date  of 
the  year.  Oranges,  dates,  figs,  nuts,  raisins,  flowers, 
candies  and  sugar  cakes  abound;  and  of  vegetables, 
cabbages,  cauliflower,  radishes,  lettuce  and  onions 
there  is  a  profusion.  There  are  chickens,  turkeys, 
lambs,  hares  and  fish  of  every  sort.  The  dealers 
from    behind    their    stands    are    shouting   eXa,    eXa, 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 75 

*'  Come,  come !  "  The  portable  stove  is  heated  to 
the  highest  temperature.  The  fat  in  which  the  sau- 
sages are  frying  splutters  with  excitement,  —  look 
out  for  your  clothes  when  you  go  by!  Cries  of 
*'  twenty  drachmas,  forty  drachmas,"  by  sharp-voiced 
dealers  rise  above  the  general  turmoil.  The  house- 
holder going  home  with  his  dressed  hare,  the  head 
left  on,  is  a  common  sight.  In  the  butter  and  cheese 
shop  what  seems  a  dead  pig  is  lying  on  its  back  with 
something  oozing  from  its  mouth.  It  is  a  pig-skin 
filled  wnth  strained  honey.  You  would  rather  buy 
your  honey  of  Hymettus  from  something  more 
sweetly  suggestive. 

Say  not  the  modern  Greek  is  devoid  of  the  artis- 
tic spirit;  for  the  dressed  turkeys  are  adorned  with 
rosettes  and  their  legs  gilded.  But  you  can  also  buy 
turkeys  "  on  the  hoof;  "  for  a  turkey  "  shepherd  "  is 
driving  a  flock  of  twenty  of  them  to  the  market-place. 
He  is  followed  by  a  man  with  a  large  pole  on  which 
twenty  or  more  bouquets  are  suspended.  Others 
bear  bunches  of  flowers  done  up  in  scalloped  paper 
and  tied  to  the  branches  of  small  trees  or  bushes, 
one  bunch  to  each  branch.  You  hear  the  tinkling 
of  bells,  breaking  through  the  general  hubbub.  That 
is  a  classical  sound.  It  is  not  the  old  Agora  bell,  but 
the  music  of  a  small  herd  of  belled  goats.  The  dairy- 
man with  his  milk  measure  in  hand  is  following  them. 
Lest  there  should  be  any  lack  of  noise  boys  are 
whirling  their  rattles  made  of  ratchet  wheel  and  pawl. 
Everybody  is  good-natured.  "  It  is  all  very  jovial," 
you  say,  —  forgetting  perhaps  that  you  are  using  a 
latinized  expletive  of  Socrates  and  paying  in  several 
languages  a  tribute  to  Father  Zeus. 


1/6  THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

I  doubt  if  the  streets  are  any  dirtier  than  they 
used  to  be;  and  the  marketmen  of  Athens,  I  suspect, 
are  more  honest  to-day  than  in  olden  time,  when 
their  trickery  was  frequently  too  much  for  the  law. 
But  even  to-day  the  police  and  the  sanitary  inspector 
must  keep  a  sharp  lookout  at  Athens,  as  in  New 
York  or  London,  for  stale  fish,  for  lambs  which  were 
killed  younger  than  they  should  have  been,  and  for 
adulterations  and  tricks  in  trade  not  confined  to  the 
market  in  Athens.  A  countryman  is  going  through 
the  Agora.  He  means  to  enrich  his  New  Year's  table 
with  a  little  fish,  and  buys  a  small  string  from  a 
dealer.  Mountain  bred,  he  does  not  know  that  these 
fish  have  been  out  of  the  water  for  at  least  three 
days.  He  puts  them  in  his  Turkish  tagari  or  sack, 
when  he  is  startled  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  a 
policeman.  "  Hallo,  old  man,"  says  the  officer,  who 
is  classically  denominated  KXrjrrjp.  **  Hallo,  old  man ; 
what  have  you  got  in  your  sack?  " 

"  I  'm  no  thief,"  says  the  frightened  countryman ; 
and  with  a  sudden  dart  he  makes  his  escape  in  the 
crowd. 

*'  Ah,  you  stupid  old  fool,"  cries  the  officer,  '*you 
think  you  are  smart,  don't  you,  but  you  have  bought 
a  string  of  spoiled  fish." 

If  Aristophanes  were  there  he  could  find  abundant 
material  for  comedy  and  satire,  and  perhaps,  after  he 
had  become  used  to  external  changes,  in  no  place 
would  the  life  of  Athens  seem  more  natural  to  him 
than  in  the  Agora.  He  would  find  that  after  twenty- 
three  hundred  years  of  history  the  Greek  marketmen 
to-day,  in  flinging  abuse,  do  not  feel  obliged  to  con- 
fine themselves  to  the  slang  of  his  day,  but  can  find 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 77 

enou£ih  that  is  new  and  more  familiar  and  which  the 
great  comedian  would  try  in  vain  to  understand. 

Just  what  was  the  relation  of  the  ancient  shrine  to 
the  ancient  Agora?  Did  the  old  marketmen  have 
an  "  eye  for  business  "  when  they  sacrificed  to  the 
gods?  The  modern  church  is  close  enough  to  the 
modern  market,  but  the  pious  merchant  does  not 
always  content  his  soul  with  going  to  church;  he 
gets  the  church  to  come  to  him.  One  day  I  stepped 
into  a  photographer's  to  see  about  some  work.  There 
behind  the  counter  stood  a  priest;  before  him  were 
various  symbols  of  his  religion,  and  a  saucer  in  which 
incense  was  burning.  Prayer-book  in  hand,  he  was 
going  through  a  portion  of  the  liturgy.  The  pho- 
tographer and  his  son  were  apparently  paying  no 
attention  to  him  or  his  prayers,  but  busied  them- 
selves in  arranging  pictures.  Nor  did  the  priest 
appear  to  be  greatly  interested  in  his  service.  He 
went  through  it  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  business ; 
and  so  it  was.  The  next  day  I  asked  the  photog- 
rapher what  it  all  meant.  "  It  means,"  said  he, 
*'  that  my  mother  is  a  pious  old  woman,  and  she  likes 
to  have  the  priest  come  round  on  the  first  day  of  the 
month  and  pray  that  business  may  be  good."  He 
smiled  sceptically  himself  and  confided  to  me  that 
he  thought  the  best  way  to  help  his  trade  was  to  do 
good  work.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  he  lived  up  to 
this  practical  precept. 

The  life  of  the  street  is  most  bright  and  jubilant 
five  or  six  weeks  later,  when  the  carnival  begins. 
People  pour  in  from  the  surrounding  country.  There 
is  a  great  carnival  procession,  and  you  may  find  a 
large  ship  borne  aloft,  as  in  the  Panathenaic  proces- 


178         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

sion.  But  this  is  really  the  modern  Dionysia.  Athens 
surrenders  itself  to  unbridled  merriment,  but  it  is 
not  lawless  or  vulgar.  Jugglers,  comedians,  gymnasts, 
pedlers,  and  the  Greek  Punch  and  Judy  abound  in  the 
streets,  as  they  did  in  the  ancient  Dionysia.  There  is 
good  testimony  to  the  skill  of  the  old  Greek  magi- 
cians. The  modern  performer  repeats  many  of  the 
same  tricks.  The  sword-balancer  and  the  sword- 
swallower  are  there,  and  we  should  no  doubt  find  the 
cup-changer.  Many  in  the  procession  wear  masks. 
There  is  a  small  menagerie  of  make-believe  animals, 
—  one  of  them  a  gigantic  and  amusing  caricature  of 
a  camel  operated  like  the  famous  Trojan  horse  by  a 
detachment  of  Greeks  in  the  inside.  There  is  much 
pantomime,  but  they  do  not  divert  themselves  greatly 
with  street  music  in  Athens. 

The  old  theatre  of  Dionysus  is  deserted  except  by 
the  curious  archaeologist,  but  crowds  fill  the  modern 
theatres.  The  street  actors  I  found  more  interesting 
and  archaic.  One  of  the  most  popular  represen- 
tations is  frequently  given  near  the  street  of  the 
money-changers.  It  is  acted  out  by  a  group  of  five 
men,  one  of  whom  impersonates  a  usurer  sitting  at 
his  desk  and  keeping  his  accounts.  A  man  comes  to 
him  and  begs  a  little  more  time  in  which  to  repay  his 
loan,  but  the  exacting  and  selfish  banker  will  grant  no 
grace.  The  banker  dies.  Two  devils  with  long  tails, 
costumed  in  black  and  with  pitchforks  in  their  hands, 
come  to  take  him.  Two  angels  with  golden  wings 
are  watching  near  by.  They  rush  to  the  scene, 
deliver  the  soul  of  the  man  from  the  devils  and  insure 
him  a  fair  trial.  They  take  his  soul,  which  is  repre- 
sented by  a  little  china  doll,  and  after   a  harangue 


THE   SHRINES   OF   ATTICA  1 79 

against  selfishness  hold  up  their  balances  and  put  it 
in.  It  is  weighed  and  found  wanting.  They  toss  the 
soul  to  the  black  devils,  who  make  off  with  it.  This 
street  play  is  a  clear  survival  of  an  early  tradition. 
On  Byzantine  pictures  the  soul  appears  as  a  small 
doll,  and  the  spectacle  of  the  l-ast  judgment  with 
the  scales  and  the  demons  is  a  favorite  Byzantine 
representation. 

As  for  games  of  children,  the  hoop  and  the  top 
and  the  doll,  the  kite  and  the  ball,  are  as  modern  as 
they  are  old,  and  I  have  played  jackstones  with  girls 
in  Athens  in  almost  precisely  the  same  manner  as 
Pollux  described  the  game. 

But  the  street  scenes  are  not  always  so  gay.  Posted 
on  the  walls  you  may  often  see  an  announcement  with 
a  margin  of  black  nearly  an  inch  broad  notifying 
friends  and  relatives  that  mass  will  be  celebrated  in 
a  designated  church  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  a 
beloved  father  and  brother.  On  Christmas  Day  the 
merry  crowd  on  Stadion  Street  was  hushed  for  a  mo- 
.ment.  Four  men  dressed  uniformly  in  dark  clothes 
of  ecclesiastical  cut,  ornamented  with  crosses,  were 
heading  a  cortege.  They  bore  various  ecclesiastical 
symbols,  and  one  held  aloft  the  white  cover  of  the 
coffin.  The  corpse,  dressed  as  in  life  and  with  the 
face  exposed,  was  carried  on  a  bier  covered  with 
flowers.  An  empty  hearse  followed,  and  four  or  five 
carriages.  There  was  no  music.  The  procession 
moved  silently  along,  and  people  took  off  their  hats 
as  it  passed.  But  sometimes  priests  march  in  advance, 
chanting  a  mournful  threnody,  and  I  have  seen  men 
and  boys  shabbily  dressed  bearing  the  cross  and  the 
white  slab.     I  shall  not  forget  the  face  of  a  beautiful 


l8o         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

boy  who  passed  me  one  day  on  his  bier.  Death  and 
sleep  seemed  to  be  twins.  Without  shroud  or  coverlet 
save  the  flowers  around  him,  dressed  as  if  for  a  fete, 
not  a  grave,  it  seemed  as  if  the  chant  of  the  mourners 
had  only  soothed  him  to  slumber. 


THE  ALTAR  OF   THE   HOME 

A  HOTEL  is  not  a  home  any  more  than  a  pension 
is  a  hotel.  In  neither  of  them  can  one  see  Greek 
domestic  Hfe.  If  I  had  Hved  in  them  long,  I  should 
not  have  known  Spiridion,  the  faithful  butler  and 
factotum,  Elizabeth,  the  cook,  with  her  island  brogue, 
nor  black-eyed  Laurette,  nor  Louise,  nor  Helen,  nor 
the  Kyria,  my  landlady. 

**  How  many  cigarettes,  Kyria,  do  you  smoke  a 
day?  "  I  asked  once.  *'  Not  many ;  only  twenty-five." 
She  was  the  only  Greek  woman  whom  I  ever  saw 
smoking,  and  she  had  acquired  this  accompHshment 
in  Paris. 

Athens  resisted  the  invasion  of  the  Goths  in  the 
third  century,  but  it  welcomes  the  Gauls  in  the  nine- 
teenth. When  it  forgets  its  past  and  wishes  to  be- 
come fashionably  modern,  it  imitates  Paris.  Thus 
there  is  a  Gallic  Athens  and  a  Greek  Athens.  The 
French  capital  has  accidentally  acquired  a  Greek 
name  smelted  from  barbarian  ore,  and,  as  the  most 
brilliant  and  beautiful  city  in  Europe,  may  challenge 
imitation ;  yet,  if  you  want  Paris,  you  should  see  it 
in  its  native  brilliancy,  not  in  a  pale  Hellenic  re- 
flection. Hence  fashionable  Hfe  in  Athens  did  not 
attract  me,  and  I  did  not  spend  any  time  at  the 
shrine  of  its  goddess.  Athens  has  nothing  unique 
to    offer    in    this   direction.      Its   social    conventions 


1 82         THE  ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

are  European,  and  one  can  easily  find  them  in  any 
other  city. 

One  may  well,  however,  light  a  candle  at  the  altar 
of  the  Greek  home.  The  altar  is  by  no  means  simply 
a  metaphor.  The  Greeks,  though  good  church-goers, 
always  reserve  some  of  their  religion  for  family  life. 
In  Ithaca  I  slept  in  a  room  where  the  pious  house- 
holder kept  a  lamp  burning  night  and  day  before  a 
shrine  of  the  Virgin  set  in  a  little  niche,  a  com- 
mon practice  with  the  peasantry.  Every  home  may 
thus  become  a  sanctuary.  I  have  stood  too  by  an 
altar  in  the  very  centre  of  the  home.  Consecrated 
mirth  followed  the  marriage  service,  which  took  place 
before  it,  and  the  girl  was  a  willing,  happy  victim. 
But  it  is  not  always  so.  At  first  I  could  not  fathom 
the  sadness  beneath  the  nonchalant  air  of  my  land- 
lady as  she  lightly  puffed  her  cigarette,  but  when 
she  told  me  her  history  I  could  almost  forgive  her 
for  turning  herself  into  a  chimney.  Her  cigarettes 
were  simply  to  drive  away  care.  She  had  never 
loved  her  husband;  she  had  married  him  simply  be- 
cause her  father  had  commanded  her  to  do  so.  In 
the  Paris  Bourse  their  fortune,  like  her  tobacco,  had 
gone  up  in  smoke.  Separated  from  him,  she  and 
her  daughters  were  fighting  the  battle  of  life  against 
heavy  odds. 

In  the  matter  of  marriage  I  find  the  Greeks  too 
much  like  their  forefathers.  It  is  interesting  to  ob- 
serve the  persistence  of  some  old  Pagan  customs ;  it  is 
less  gratifying  to  see  others  perpetuated  which  ought 
long  since  to  have  been  buried.  It  was  an  old  form 
of  Pagan  brutality  for  a  father  to  arrange  a  marriage 
for  his  daughter,  and  even  for  his  son,  without  con- 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 83 

suiting  or  heeding  their  inclinations.  There  was  too 
much  matrimonial  bargaining  and  too  much  disre- 
gard of  the  affections.  That  happy  marriage  some- 
times resulted  does  not  prove  that  the  custom 
was  a  good  one  any  more  than  wedded  happiness 
in  India  justifies  child  marriage.  Hence  Plato  in 
his  Laws,  among  some  radical  suggestions,  made 
the  sensible  one  that  "  people  must  be  acquainted 
with  those  in  whose  family  they  marry  and  to  whom 
they  are  given  in  marriage ;  in  such  matters  as  far  as 
possible  to  avoid  mistakes  is  all  important." 

Greek  boys  and  girls  are  not  without  opportunities 
of  seeing  each  other,  but  the  dickering  over  the 
dowry  still  continues.  The  Greeks  are  not  alone 
under  its  thrall,  for  it  is  a  custom  which  prevails  all 
over  the  continent  of  Europe.  Tl/aotf,  now  current 
in  the  form  irpotKa,  is  an  old  Attic  word  for  the 
marriage  portion,  and  there  is  many  a  Greek  girl 
to-day  who  wishes  the  word  and  the  thing  were  not 
so  modern.  I  have  not  discussed  the  subject  with 
the  high  functionaries  of  Church  or  State,  but  I  have 
talked  it  over  with  the  Kyria,  my  landlady;  with 
Nicholas,  the  cab  driver ;  with  Georgios,  the  law  stu- 
dent; and  with  Helen,  not  of  Troy,  but  of  Athens. 
I  did  not  find  any  great  difference  in  their  opinions, 
though  occasionally  some  variation  in  their  accounts 
of  the  customs.  The  usage  at  Zante  or  at  Sparta 
may  differ  a  little  from  that  at  Athens.  It  is  Georgios 
who  takes  the  Spartan  view,  which  he  confided  to 
me  as  we  were  sitting  over  our  loukoumi  at  a  cafe 
near  the  Stadion. 

'*  It  often  happens,"  he  said,  "  that  a  young  man 
sees  the  girl  he  is  to  marry  only  once  before  the 


1 84         THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

wedding.  The  great  stumbling-block  is  when  the 
parents  do  not  agree  as  to  the  proika.  The  father 
of  the  girl  gives  the  dowry,  and  with  us  it  must  not 
be  less  than  a  thousand  drachmas.  It  runs  up  to  ten 
or  fifteen  thousand  sometimes,  and  of  course  the  rich 
give  fifty  or  a  hundred  thousand."  At  that  time,  a 
drachma  was  worth  fourteen  cents. 

'*■  When  a  father  wishes  to  marry  off  his  daughter," 
continued  Georgios,  "  he  calls  in  a  relative,  —  a  wo- 
man, of  course,  —  and  asks  her  to  go  to  the  father  of 
the  young  man  whom  he  would  like  to  have  marry  his 
girl.  If  the  father  is  not  living  she  goes  to  the  mother, 
and  if  she  is  not  living  the  match-maker  goes  to  the 
young  man  himself.  The  father  thus  approached  im- 
mediately asks,  not  whether  the  young  people  know 
each  other  or  love  each  other,  for  they  are  not  yet 
considered  in  the  transaction ;  he  asks  what  the  girl's 
father  is  worth,  and  how  much  he  will  give  for  the 
privilege  of  having  a  daughter  married  to  his  son. 
The  go-between  suggests  ten  thousand  drachmas. 
*  No,'  says  the  man,  *  it  must  be  fifteen  thousand.' 
And  then  the  haggling  begins.  Sometimes  they 
cannot  make  a  trade  and  that  ends  the  whole  busi- 
ness. If  the  dowry  is  sufficient,  it  is  not  indelicate 
under  the  circumstances  to  ask  the  age  of  the  girl. 
The  father  broaches  the  matter  to  his  son,  and,  if  he 
finds  him  inclined  to  marry,  they  go  to  see  the  girl. 
If  they  live  in  the  same  town  the  young  man  —  I 
will  not  say  lover,  for  husbands  in  Greece  fre- 
quently do  not  love  their  wives  until  after  they  are 
married  —  the  young  man  may  have  seen  her  before ; 
but  if  they  live  in  different  towns  he  may  not  know 
her,  and  may  be  pardoned  for  having  a  little  curiosity 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 85 

as  to  her  looks.  So  he  goes  with  friends,  —  perhaps 
the  old  man  goes  along  too,  —  and  they  make  a 
formal  call.  They  do  not  say  anything  about  mar- 
riage. They  talk  about  the  weather  and  the  crops 
and  avoid  politics.  If  the  young  man  does  not  take 
a  fancy  to  the  girl,  the  matter  may  be  dropped.  It 
happens  frequently  enough  that  he  has  ideas  of  his 
own  upon  this  subject.  He  wants  one  girl  and  his 
father  wants  him  to  take  another,  and  the  father  in- 
sists upon  his  taking  the  one  who  has  tjie  most  money 
or  threatens  him  with  disinheritance."  Georgios 
spoke  with  as  much  positiveness  as  though  he  were 
stating  a  proposition  in  mathematics. 

''  But  suppose,"  I  suggested,  "  the  girl  does  not 
want  the  wooer." 

*' Oh,"  he  said,  dropping  into  Attic  Greek,  *'that 
seldom  {airavlw^)  happens.  Frequently  the  girl  learns 
that  she  is  to  be  married  at  the  last  moment,  after 
all  the  arrangements  have  been  made.  As  a  rule 
the  girl  marries  the  man  that  her  father  and  mother 
choose  for  her."  Had  the  Kyria,  my  landlady,  been 
near  when  this  was  said  she  would  have  lighted 
another  cigarette. 

"But,"  continued  Georgios,  ''the  bridegroom  has 
his  sacrifices  to  make.  It  sometimes  happens  that 
he  marries  a  girl  who  is  cross-eyed  or  lame,  or  defec- 
tive in  some  way,  because  he  wants  the  money.  The 
groom's  father  makes  some  presents  to  the  bride,  —  a 
silk  dress,  or  something  of  that  kind.  The  father  of 
the  bride  gives  a  ring  to  the  groom  and  the  groom 
presents  one  to  the  bride,  either  at  the  hour  of  the 
marriage,  or  more  generally  when  the  compact 
{(TVfjL(j)covLa)  is  completed."     The  Greeks,  by  the  way, 


1 86         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

do  not  deny  musical  significance  to  this  word  sy7it- 
phony,  but  they  also  apply  it  to  the  agreement  which 
one  makes  with  his  hack-driver ! 

After  the  engagement  the  bridegroom-elect  may 
visit  the  girl's  home  every  day,  if  he  chooses,  and 
may  possibly  fall  in  love  with  her.  The  betrothal 
is  generally  concluded  at  the  house  of  the  bride, 
and  a  priest  is  there  to  bless  both  rings.  The  en- 
gagement may  last  three  months,  six  months  or  a 
year.  Marriages  do  not  take  place  during  Lent, 
except  under  rare  circumstances  and  by  special 
permission  of  the  metropolitan.  Away  down  in 
Laconia  (Mani),  the  big  toe  of  the  Peloponnesus,  a 
still  more  Spartan  austerity  is  observed.  After  the 
agreement  is  made  the  groom's  father  is  obliged  to 
give  a  little  money  to  the  father  of  the  girl  and  some 
gifts  to  the  daughter  and  to  her  mother;  but  even 
after  the  exchange  of  rings  the  bridegroom  is  not 
allowed  to  see  the  girl  or  to  walk  with  her  until  the 
wedding  day.  In  other  parts  of  Greece,  I  am  told, 
more  freedom  is  allowed,  and  the  bridegroom-elect 
is  treated  as  a  son. 

It  was  through  the  kindness  of  Pater  Anthimos  that 
I  was  invited  to  an  Athenian  wedding,  solemnized 
by  this  archimandrite;  not  a  wedding  in  high  life, 
but  somewhere  in  the  middle  of  the  social  crust. 
On  the  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room  was  a  tray 
filled  with  candies  and  a  large  and  beautifully  bound 
volume  of  the  liturgy.  The  archimandrite  wore  a 
robe  of  purplish  blue  with  a  gold  sash.  He  was 
assisted  by  a  deacon  in  red,  hkewise  with  a  sash  of 
gold.  Candles  were  brought  in,  the  two  largest,  about 
four  feet  in   length,   ornamented  with  long  ribbons. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 87 

After  the  candles  were  lighted,  the  bride  entered  on 
the  arm  of  her  father,  who  did  not  wear  a  black  coat 
as  fashionable  society  would  have  required.  The 
groom  stood  at  the  right  of  the  bride,  the  best  man 
on  the  right  of  the  bridegroom,  and  the  bridesmaid 
on  the  left  of  the  bride  her  sister.  The  priest  first 
addressed  the  groom,  and  after  his  response  gave  him 
a  lighted  candle ;  the  bride  too  responded  with  her 
modest  "  yes,"  and  received  a  candle  likewise.  The 
priest  and  his  assistant  plunged  into  the  liturgy  and 
intoned  the  service,  which  was  by  no  means  short. 
A  guest,  though  not  arrayed  in  a  wedding  garment, 
was  not  cast  into  outer  darkness,  and  there  was  no 
personal  plea  for  mercy  in  his  prayer  as  he  held  the 
candle  and  sung  Kyrie  eleison.  Two  rings  were  laid 
by  the  best  man  on  the  tray  in  front  of  the  priest, 
who  took  them  both,  blessed  the  groom  three  times, 
placed  a  ring  on  his  finger  and  did  the  same  for  the 
bride.  They  did  not  rest  there  long,  for  the  best 
man  took  them  both  off,  and  after  exchanging  them, 
replaced  them  on  their  fingers,  over  the  white  gloves, 
which  were  not  cut.  Taking  two  crowns  of  artificial 
flowers,  the  priest  set  one  on  the  groom's  head  and 
blessed  it,  and  the  other  on  the  head  of  the  bride, 
and  blessed  that.  The  wreaths  were  then  exchanged 
by  the  best  man,  who  put  the  bride's  on  the  head  of  the 
groom,  and  the  groom's  on  the  head  of  the  bride.  The 
communion  was  then  administered.  A  glass  of  wine 
was  set  before  the  priest,  and  on  it  a  plate  with  three 
pieces  of  bread,  which  he  broke  into  little  bits  and 
dropped  into  the  wine.  Taking  a  spoon,  he  gave 
some  of  the  moistened  bread  to  the  bridegroom  and 
three  spoonfuls  of  wine,  the  same  to  the  bride,  and 


1 88         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

the  same  to  the  best  man.  The  reading  from  the 
hturgy  which  followed  was  prolonged  until  I  feared 
that  my  good  friend  the  archimandrite  was  going  to 
read  through  the  whole  volume.  But  the  end  finally 
came.  The  priest,  as  described  on  page  140,  took 
the  hand  of  the  best  man,  and  the  best  man  that  of 
the  groom  and  the  groom  that  of  the  bride ;  together 
they  went  three  times  round  the  table,  the  company 
meanwhile  pelting  the  pair  with  candies.  The  step 
was  not  a  march  nor  a  waltz,  so  much  as  a  walk ;  the 
early  dance  has  lost  its  elasticity  in  this  service,  just 
as  it  is  fashionable  in  these  days  to  walk  out  cotillions 
instead  of  dancing  them. 

The  service  was  over  and  the  members  of  the 
family  and  guests  came  up  and  congratulated  the 
wedded  pair,  kissing  the  cheek  of  the  bride  and 
also  her  wreath,  while  the  young  man  was  kissed  by 
the  more  intimate  friends.  Sweet  wine  was  passed 
around,  and  bon-bons  tied  up  in  a  gauze  bag  were 
given  to  each  guest.  The  health  of  husband  and 
wife  was  of  course  drunk,  and  it  was  an  act  of 
gallantry  for  a  young  man  to  step  up  to  some  young 
lady  present,  and  with  glass  in  hand  to  say  '^  ra 
hiKcb  aa^,  ''  Here  is  to  your  own  wedding,"  though 
Mr.  Joseph  Jefferson  would  translate  it  a  little  more 
elaborately. 

I  regret  that  Mavilla  was  not  present  to  give  a 
detailed  account  of  the  bride's  dress.  It  was  not 
wholly  of  white,  but  had  spangles  and  flowers 
wrought  into  its  texture.  Orange  blossoms  adorned 
both  dress  and  coiffure. 

Was  this  a  Christian  service,  or  a  pagan  one? 
A  little   of  both.     The  constant  use  of  the  number 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  1 89 

three,  the  threefold  blessing  of  groom  and  bride,  the 
threefold  blessing  of  the  ring  and  wreath,  the  three 
pieces  of  bread  and  the  three  spoonfuls  of  wine,  the 
three  times  passing  round  the  table,  were  all  reverent 
introductions  of  the  Trinitarian  formula;  but  the 
bridal  torches,  the  crowns  of  flowers,  the  shower  of 
candies,  and  the  dance  round  the  table,  to  which  I 
have  before  referred  in  the  chapter  on  the  Greek 
theatre,  are  all  survivals  of  old  Greek  customs.  The 
conjunctions  of  history  are  curious  enough,  and 
among  them  it  seems  passing  strange  that  an  ancient 
Greek  dance  subdued  into  a  walk  should  have  im- 
perceptibly glided  into  the  Christian  ritual  and  be- 
come with  priestly  participation  a  festive  but  reverent 
ascription  to  the  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost. 

In  the  country  villages  weddings  are  celebrated 
with  something  more  of  rustic  cheer  and  conviviality. 
In  ancient  days  the  wedding  customs  in  Sparta  dif- 
fered much  from  those  in  Attica,  and  I  do  not  know 
how  general  are  some  of  the  following  village  cus- 
toms described  by  my  Spartan  friend.  Two  days 
before  the  marriage  the  groom,  with  parents,  relatives 
and  friends,  goes  to  the  house  of  the  bride,  where 
all  are  received  with  the  firing  of  pistols  and  with 
abundance  of  wine  and  sweetmeats.  The  dowry  is 
paid  over  to  the  groom,  and  on  the  following  Sunday 
the  marriage  is  celebrated,  usually  at  the  house  of  the 
bride.  When  the  ceremony  takes  place  in  church 
the  bride  is  conducted  by  her  brother  or  by  the  best 
man,  and  the  service  is  concluded  by  the  priest,  the 
best  man,  the  husband  and  wife  forming  a  circle, 
when  the  shower  of  candies  begins.  In  the  con- 
gratulations which  follow,  it  is  common  to  kiss  the 


I90         THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

bride's  wreath,  and  for  all  who  are  present  to  throw 
money  into  the  handkerchief  of  the  priest. 

A  rustic  habit,  reserved  for  the  nearest  friends,  is 
that  of  striking  the  groom  on  the  cheek.  In  the 
dances  which  follow,  the  men  take  partners  and  form 
almost  a  circle.  The  bride  and  groom  dance  round 
a  few  times  and  take  places  at  the  end  of  the  set; 
the  next  couple  follow,  and  the  next,  until  all  have 
had  a  turn.  Two  or  three  musicians  with  their  rustic 
pipes  literally  inspire  the  dance,  but  the  harp  of 
Demodocus  is  lacking. 

A  wedding  procession  also  is  common  in  the 
country.  At  Pyrgos  we  saw  one  winding  across  the 
plain.  The  bride  rode  in  an  open  carriage,  while 
the  guests  were  on  horseback.  The  costumes  were 
highly  picturesque,  and  the  droning  music  of  the 
pipers  reminded  me  of  Scotch  bag-pipes. 

In  Zante,  as  the  Kyria  told  me,  Thursday  is  the 
fashionable  marriage  day,  and  for  the  poorer  classes 
Sunday,  and  the  service  is  always  held  in  the  even- 
ing. In  arranging  the  marriage  the  go-between  is 
often  a  priest,  because  affairs  must  be  conducted  with 
the  greatest  secrecy,  so  that  if  the  arrangement  fails 
it  will  not  be  a  matter  of  public  notoriety.  When 
the  peasants  are  poor  the  dowry  may  be  so  many 
trees,  say  ten  or  twelve  for  the  girl,  or  a  vineyard. 
The  amount  of  money  dowry  is  small  in  the  islands, 
sometimes  not  exceeding  five  hundred  drachmas. 

Nicholas,  my  driver  in  the  Peloponnesus,  said  that 
in  his  neighborhood  the  girl  must  have  two  or  three 
thousand  drachmas,  or  a  house,  a  vineyard  or  some- 
thing else.  *'  In  America,"  I  said,  "  we  marry  not 
for  money,  but  for  love,"  upon  which  he  smiled,  and 


THE   SHRINES    OF   ATTICA  I91 

said  that  there  were  some  marriages  for  love  in 
Greece,  and  elopements  were  not  unknown. 

In  Zante  repeated  earthquakes  may  have  shaken 
somewhat  the  stability  of  old  customs,  for  a  young 
man  may  make  his  approach  to  his  future  bride  in 
a  more  romantic  way.  He  may  watch  at  the  spring 
for  the  girl  he  loves,  and  as  she  comes  to  draw  water 
or  to  wash  clothes,  he  snatches  the  mandylion  or 
handkerchief  from  her  head  and  keeps  it.  It  is  soon 
known  throughout  the  village  that  he  has  taken  her 
handkerchief.  This  involves  an  offer  of  marriage. 
It  would  be  a  great  insult  if  this  offer  were  not  soon 
made  to  her  father.  In  such  cases  the  wooer  is 
generally  successful,  and  he  is  obliged  to  accept  just 
what  dowry  her  father  offers.  This  is  more  of  a 
reversion  to  the  Heroic  Age,  when  the  bride  was 
captured  by  force,  or  to  the  gallantry  of  Homeric 
times,  when  bridal  gifts  or  dowry  were  paid  to  the 
father  of  the  bride. 

The  wife's  dowry  becomes  a  protection  to  the 
children.  If  she  dies  without  having  children,  the 
amount  of  her  dowry  must  be  paid  back  to  her  father. 
If  there  are  children  and  the  man  marries  a  second 
time,  they  receive  from  his  estate  the  amount  of  the 
mother's  dowry,  and  after  a  father's  death  the  chil- 
dren of  the  first  marriage  have  a  prior  claim  on  the 
estate  for  this  amount.  If  there  is  anything  left  it 
goes  to  the  children  of  the  second  marriage.  It  is 
not  legal  to  marry  more  than  thrice.  The  marriage 
of  cousins  is  forbidden  within  the  sixth  degree,  and 
the'  marriage  of  a  deceased  wife's  sister  to  her 
brother-in-law,  or  of  a  deceased  husband's  brother 
to  his  sister-in-law,  is  forbidden. 


192  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

It  is  not  usually  the  custom  to  marry  a  second 
daughter  until  the  first  is  married.  This  is  well  illus- 
trated in  Mr.  Bikelas'  humorous  island  tale,  'H  "Ao-;^?;/^?; 
'ASeX<f)7],  "  The  Homely  Sister."  It  is  the  story  of  a 
dry-as-dust  professor  of  philology  whose  life  had 
been  saved  by  a  young  judge,  and  who  had  vowed 
to  devote  his  life  to  that  of  his  saviour.  The  younger 
man  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  second  daughter  of 
a  merchant  who  had  decided  not  to  give  her  in 
marriage  until  the  older  and  plainer  sister  had  first 
been  wedded.  It  is  in  this  emergency  that  the  eccen- 
tric bachelor  professor  decides  to  sacrifice  himself  for 
his  friend  and  marry  the  plain-looking  sister.  He 
rushes  into  the  coffee-merchant's  office  in  his  busiest 
hour  and  tells  him  he  will  marry  his  daughter.  He 
is  received  somewhat  coldly,  with  the  suggestion  that 
such  matters  are  usually  arranged  through  third  par- 
ties. A  female  cousin  manages  the  affair  more  tact- 
fully. A  meeting  of  the  professor  and  the  homely 
daughter  is  arranged.  The  fussy  trepidation  of  the 
old  bachelor  is  amusing  enough.  His  friend  con- 
ducts him  to  the  door  of  the  house  and  leaves  him 
to  his  fate.  An  hour  later  he  comes  out  radiantly 
happy.  No  one  knows  just  what  has  occurred,  but 
he  exclaims  with  delight,  "  Why,  she  is  n't  ugly  at 
all."  Of  course  a  double  marriage  is  the  result,  and 
though  the  professor  looks  somewhat  comical  in  his 
wedding  wreath,  the  crown  of  flowers  does  not 
become  a  crown  of  thorns. 

It  is  easy  to  believe  Georgios  when  he  says  that  in 
Sparta  the  children  who  run  to  tell  a  father  that  the 
baby  just  born  is  a  girl  do  not  get  much  of  a  reward. 
**  In   fact,"  said  Georgios,  "  he  is  angry."     It  is  not 


THE   SHRINES    OF  ATTICA  1 93 

etiquette  for  the  mother  to  visit  the  neighbors  until 
forty  days  after  the  child  is  born.  Then  the  mother 
goes  to  church  with  the  child  and  the  nurse,  and 
offers  prayers  with  the  priest,  who  takes  the  child  up 
in  his  arms  and  goes  round  the  holy  table  two  or 
three  times.  The  father  does  not  go  to  church  on 
this  occasion.  From  this  time  the  mother  is  free  to 
go  where  she  pleases.  The  birth  of  a  child  is  an 
occasion  for  rural  festivity.  The  neighbors  bring  in 
candies  and  dainties,  which,  being  too  strong  a  diet  for 
the  newcomer,  are  eaten  by  the  rest  of  the  family.  If 
the  child  is  sickly  and  in  danger  of  death,  baptism  is 
administered  at  an  early  day.  It  is  not  valid  without 
a  priest,  and  unless  some  one  is  designated  as  god- 
father. If  the  child  is  well,  the  baptism  takes  place 
when  it  is  forty  or  fifty  days  old,  and  is  usually 
administered  at  the  home ;  but  frequently  the  mother 
wishes  to  christen  the  child  in  a  church  dedicated  to 
some  saint.  The  mother,  nurse  and  child  go  with 
friends.  When  the  priest  reads  the  gospel  before 
the  holy  door  the  nurse  puts  down  the  child  beneath 
the  picture  of  the  saint  to  whom  the  mother  has 
dedicated  it.  No  sooner  is  it  put  down  than  there 
is  a  rush  to  get  the  baby's  cap.  He  who  gets  it  is 
the  godfather  (i/owo?),  or  godmother.  The  mother 
usually  chooses  the  godfather,  and  for  the  first  child 
it  is  generally  the  person  who  has  acted  as  best  man 
at  the  wedding.  Likewise,  when  a  person  has  become 
godfather  it  is  generally  the  rule  to  ask  him  to  be 
the  best  man  at  the  wedding  of  his  godchild.  The 
best  man  would  be  rather  old  in  some  cases  for  this 
duty,  which  is  often  transferred  to  his  son.  Of  course 
the  least  the  noitnos  can  do  is  to  buy  a  dress  for  the 

13 


194         THE   ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

baby.  He  has  also  an  important  function  at  the 
baptism.  At  this  service  two  priests  officiate.  It 
goes  without  saying  that  there  is  a  crowd  of  relatives 
and  friends.  The  child  is  completely  undressed. 
The  liturgy  is  read.  The  priest  cuts  with  a  pair  of 
scissors  a  few  hairs  from  the  infant's  head  and  throws 
them  into  the  baptismal  font.  A  small  quantity  of 
olive  oil  brought  by  the  godfather  is  likewise  poured 
into  the  font.  The  child  is  then  held  toward  the  west, 
representing  the  kingdom  of  darkness,  and  is  asked 
three  times  by  the  priest  if  he  renounces  the  evil 
spirit.  The  godfather  replies  in  his  behalf,  "  I  have 
renounced  him  ;  "  and  the  exorcism  of  the  devil  is 
completed  by  blowing  and  spitting  three  times.  The 
priest  and  the  godfather,  with  the  child,  turn  toward 
the  east,  representing  the  kingdom  of  light,  and  the 
sponsor  is  asked  if  he  accepts  Christ.  A  confession 
of  faith  follows.  The  priest  then  plunges  the  child 
three  times  into  the  font,  the  water  of  which  has  been 
mercifully  warmed.  After  being  dried  by  a  nurse 
the  infant  is  anointed  by  the  priest,  who  touches  its 
forehead,  chin,  shoulders,  navel  and  feet.  Of  course 
other  prayers  follow.  The  child  that  does  not  kick 
and  squirm  during  the  operation  must  have  the  forti- 
tude of  a  Spartan. 

After  the  baptism  the  nounos  gives  two  or  three 
drachmas  to  the  father  or  mother,  flings  a  handful  of 
pennies  {leptd)  among  the  children,  and  gives  to 
each  of  the  women  present  ten  or  twenty  lepta.  This 
money  is  called  ^aprvpLKa,  that  is,  witness  money 
that  the  child  has  been  baptized  and  is  a  Christian. 
There  are  Greeks  who  do  not  have  their  children 
baptized  until  they  are  ten  or  fifteen  years  of  age. 


THE   SHRINES   OF   ATTICA  195 

Adults  are  sometimes  baptized  in  the  river.  To 
postpone  the  rite  is  regarded  as  a  sin  by  more 
pious  Greeks. 

The  descriptions  I  have  given  are  mainly  of  rural 
customs  and  those  which  are  least  affected  by  fashion- 
able or  modern  innovations.  In  the  homes  of  the 
wealthy  these  festivals  may  be  celebrated  with  pomp 
and  elegance.  It  must  not  be  inferred,  however,  that 
wealthy  Greeks  are  necessarily  any  less  Hellenic.  It 
would  be  hard  to  surpass  in  any  country  the  record 
for  patriotism  and  fidelity  to  national  traditions  which 
many  of  the  wealthiest  Greeks  have  made.  If  some 
have  sprung  from  the  humblest  walks  of  life  they 
have  learned  to  use  wealth  without  vulgarity,  and 
others  reflect  a  fine  culture  like  the  beautiful  polish 
which  their  fathers  put  on  their  best  marble. 

Two  representative  homes  in  Athens  were  always 
open  to  Americans.  The  Greek  spirit  which  per- 
vades the  palatial  home  of  Mrs.  Schliemann  is  felt  by 
the  visitor  when  he  is  met  by  a  servant  in  immaculate 
fustanella,  who  conducts  him  across  the  courtyard 
whence  five  other  men-servants  direct  him  to  the 
great  salon.  Is  this  the  palace  of  Menelaus?  the 
visitor  may  well  ask  in  the  midst  of  these  luxuri- 
ous surroundings.  It  is  at  any  rate  the  home  of 
Agamemnon,  and  after  he  has  recited  with  delightful 
enunciation  some  passages  of  the  Odyssey  in  Greek, 
he  will  talk  to  you  in  good  English  and  tell  you  that 
he  is  really  an  American  citizen,  and  will  take  delight 
in  showing  you  some  of  his  father's  valuable  dis- 
coveries. But  you  will  need  to  hear  Mrs.  Schlie- 
mann's  own  dramatic  recital  of  her  experiences  with 
her  husband  at  Troy.     At  no  home  in  Athens  does 


196         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

one  get  so  vivid  an  impression  of  the  vital  relation  of 
the  old  Greece  and  the  new.  The  magnificent  house  is 
thoroughly  modern,  but  it  is  adorned  with  old  Greek 
gnomes  and  enriched  with  treasures  of  art,  ornaments, 
jewels,  trinkets,  pottery  and  other  fruits  of  the  labor 
of  the  remarkable  explorer  who  with  a  faith  and  per- 
severance not  excelled  by  Columbus  uncovered  an 
old  world  as  Columbus  discovered  the  new. 

The  other  home,  which  during  my  winter  in  Athens, 
as  for  many  previous  years,  was  the  continual  centre 
of  hospitality,  was  that  of  the  Prime  Minister,  the  late 
Charilaos  Trikoupes.  In  the  salon,  a  veritable  garden 
of  flowers,  Miss  Sophia  Trikoupes,  the  accomplished 
sister  of  the  Prime  Minister,  was  the  gracious  smiling 
presence  who  with  supreme  tact  and  courtesy  re- 
ceived the  innumerable  guests  that  thronged  her 
receptions  and  relieved  her  brother,  overburdened 
with  the  cares  of  state,  from  the  added  pressure  of 
the  social  ritual.  In  the  bereavement  which  fell  upon 
her  and  the  country  in  the  death  of  Mr.  Trikoupes 
she  had  the  sympathy  of  many  who  admired  the 
genius  of  her  brother  and  who  had  enjoyed  her  own 
kindly  hospitality.  I  cannot  forget  the  home  of 
Pater  Anthimos,  the  faithful  archimandrite, —  a  wise, 
broad-minded  and  admirable  shepherd  for  his  flock; 
nor  the  charming  home  of  a  lady  who  has  helped 
to  lead  the  women  of  Athens  into  new  privileges 
and  new  duties,  —  the  editor  of  the  Athens  WomarCs 
yournaly  Madame  Callirhoe  Parren.  No  one  can  read 
that  paper  without  feeling  that  the  new  woman  of 
Athens,  with  her  finer  and  larger  culture,  is  to  be 
better  than  ever  equipped  for  her  duties  as  mother 
and  wife. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  197 

As  I  lived  for  months  in  a  Greek  home,  I  know 
it  from  the  inside.  I  had  no  occasion  to  lock  my 
drawers  or  my  trunk  against  the  curiosity  or  cupid- 
ity of  Spiridion  or  Elizabeth,  who  were  the  souls  of 
honesty,  and  I  am  not  cynical  enough  to  believe  that 
the  tears  of  the  Kyria  and  her  daughters  and  of 
my  faithful  servant  when  I  left  Athens  were  such 
as  crocodiles  shed  on  the  waters  of  the  Nile. 

"  Pray  that  you  may  not  be  in  Greece  in  Lent," 
said  a  friend  of  mine;  ''you  will  starve  to  death." 
It  is  not  only  then  that  the  lives  of  the  people, 
especially  in  the  rural  districts,  are  marked  by  ab- 
stinence and  frugality.  Lent  is  no  reaction  from 
violent  excesses.  The  simplicity  and  frugality  of 
Greek  tastes  go  back  to  days  even  beyond  Lycurgus. 
Abstinence  is  not  a  virtue,  but  a  habit  confirmed  by 
years  of  poverty.  The  peasant  may  not  taste  meat 
for  weeks  at  a  time.  Black  bread  and  cheese,  olives 
and  figs,  and  a  little  wine  at  his  meals,  with  fish  on 
the  sea-coast,  and  a  few  vegetables,  furnish  the  staple 
articles  of  diet.  The  wine  drunk  by  the  peasantry  is 
strongly  flavored  with  resin,  which  is  supposed  to 
preserve  the  wine  and  the  wine  drinker.  It  is  a 
curious  draught  to  an  unaccustomed  palate.  An 
American  who  learned  to  like  it  sent  a  barrel  to  New 
York.  The  custom-house  officers  were  much  per- 
plexed, but  finally  entered  it  as  turpentine !  I  have 
never  seen  a  drunken  woman  in  Greece  at  any  time, 
and  rarely  a  drunken  man,  though  there  are  crimes 
of  violence  which  come  from  wine-heated  blood. 
Such  terrible  scenes  as  London  furnishes  of  women 
and  children  crowding  into  bar-rooms  and  drinking 
from  the  same  cup  are  unknown  in  Greece,  nor  can 


198         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

Athens  furnish  a  parallel  to  Piccadilly  or  the  Boule- 
vard Poissoniere.  The  social  evil  is  not  flagrant,  and 
the  night-walker  is  almost  unknown. 

I  have  seen  Greek  homes  under  many  aspects,  — 
those  of  the  rich  in  Athens,  and  those  of  the  poor  in 
little  villages,  in  the  islands,  in  the  mountains  of  the 
Peloponnesus  and  on  the  plains  of  Thessaly,  —  and  I 
have  been  impressed  with  the  solidity  of  the  virtues 
which  support  the  family  life.  They  have  something 
of  the  strength  and  simplicity  of  the  old  Doric 
temples.  Frugality,  temperance,  contentment,  an 
unsophisticated  rusticity  which  is  not  boorish,  and 
a  kindly  but  unostentatious  hospitality,  are  more 
common  than  in  the  days  of  Baucis  and  Philemon. 
Reverence  for  parents,  brotherly  and  sisterly  affec- 
tion, are  the  rule  rather  than  the  exception. 

The  onerous  custom  of  the  dowry  is  felt  not  only 
by  the  girls  but  by  their  brothers,  who  find  in  it, 
however,  an  opportunity  for  brotherly  sacrifice  and 
devotion.  With  a  smile  of  satisfaction  my  friend 
Demosthenes  —  who  is  not  an  orator,  but  sells  fruit 
and  candies  in  the  Athens  of  America  —  confided  to 
me  that  he  had  made  enough  money  to  send  home 
a  dowry  for  one  of  his  sisters.  I  have  known  young 
men  to  fulfil  with  heroism  vows  not  to  marry  until 
they  could  give  dowries  to  all  their  sisters.  But  the 
girls  sometimes  take  this  matter  into  their  own  hands. 
At  Megalopolis  I  was  surprised  to  find  ten  or  twelve 
girls  wheeling  barrows  of  dirt  in  the  excavations  of 
the  English  School,  —  not  for  love  of  antiquity,  but 
to  earn  something  for  their  proika.  In  this  way  they 
made  two  drachmas,  or  about  thirty  cents,  a  day, 
improving    their    health   as   well    as    their   fortunes. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  199 

These  country  girls,  with  their  brown  or  ruddy  faces, 
have  no  need  of  the  cosmetics  advertised  in  the 
Athenian  newspapers,  which,  modern  though  they 
seem,  are  but  the  perpetuation  of  an  ancient  form  of 
vanity.  In  Xenophon's  "  CEconomicus"  Ischomachus 
relates  a  conversation  that  he  had  with  his  wife 
shortly  after  his  marriage  :  — 

*'  '  I  noticed  that  she  was  in  the  habit  of  using  cos- 
metics, that  she  might  seem  fairer  and  ruddier  than 
she  was,  and  of  wearing  high  shoes,  that  she  might 
appear  taller  than  she  was  by  nature.  "  Tell  me,  my 
dear,"  said  I,  "should  you  esteem  me  more  highly  as 
a  sharer  of  your  fortunes,  if  I  told  you  exactly  the 
state  of  my  property,  or  if  I  tried  to  deceive  you  by 
exhibiting  false  coin,  and  necklaces  of  gilded  wood, 
and  robes  of  spurious  instead  of  genuine  purple?" 
She  replied  instantly,  '*  Heaven  forbid !  Were  you 
such  a  man,  I  never  could  love  you  from  my  heart." 
"  Well,  then,  would  you  like  me  better  if  I  appeared 
before  you  sound  and  healthy,  fair  and  vigorous,  or 
with  painted  cheeks  and  artificially  colored  eyelids, 
trying  to  cheat  you  by  offering  you  paint  instead 
of  myself?"  "  Why,"  she  said,  **  I  like  you  better 
than  paint;  I  prefer  the  natural  color  of  your  cheeks 
to  rouge,  and  I  would  rather  look  into  your  eyes 
sparkling  with  health  than  with  all  the  cosmetics 
in  the  world."  "  Then  I  would  have  you  to  know 
that  I  am  more  charmed  with  your  native  com- 
plexion than  with  paint.  These  false  pretences  may 
deceive  the  casual  observer,  but  not  those  who  live 
together.  They  are  exposed  before  the  morning 
toilette,  or  by  perspiration,  or  by  tears,  or  by  the 
bath." 


200         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

"  '  What  in  Heaven's  name  did  she  answer?  '  asked 
Socrates. 

"  'Why,  she  said  she  would  not  do  so  any  more, 
and  asked  my  advice  as  to  the  best  means  of  making 
herself  really  beautiful.  I  advised  her  not  to  sit  all 
the  time,  like  a  slave,  but  to  be  up  and  stirring ;  to 
look  after  the  bread-maker,  to  stand  over  the  house- 
keeper as  she  measured  out  the  allowance;  to  run 
all  over  the  house,  and  to  see  if  everything  was  in 
its  place;  for  this  would  combine  both  duty  and 
exercise.  I  said  that  it  was  a  good  exercise  also  to 
mix  and  knead  the  bread,  to  shake  out  the  clothes 
and  make  the  beds;  and  that  thus  she  would  have 
a  better  appetite,  and  grow  healthier,  and  would  in 
reality  appear  handsomer.  And  now,  Socrates,  my 
wife  lives  and  practises  according  to  my  instructions, 
and  as  I  tell  you.'  "  ^ 

Pascal  had  not  invented  the  wheelbarrow  when 
Xenophon  gave  us  his  interesting  picture  of  the 
Greek  household.  It  is  not  strange,  therefore,  that 
Ischomachus  did  not  suggest  the  use  of  this  mono- 
cycle.  But  many  a  young  lady  of  Athens  to-day  is 
fulfilling  the  spirit  of  his  excellent  advice  by  a  daily 
spin  on  her  bicycle.  The  Athenians  are  as  fond  as 
ever  of  new  things,  and  though  the  bicycle  is  not 
a  Greek  invention,  Socrates  would  not  fail  to  recog- 
nize its  Greek  name.  Philosopher  as  he  was,  he 
would  need  no  suggestion  from  Plato  to  see  that  this 
new  instrument  is  but  the  symbol  of  the  Greek 
woman's  enlarging  sphere  of  activity. 
1  Felton's  translation. 


or  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


THE   CHRISTIAN   SHRINE 


FROM  PAGANISM   TO   CHRISTIANITY 

The  Acropolis  and  the  Areopagus,  I  have  said, 
stand  over  against  each  other.  Each  of  these  rocks 
symbolizes  an  epoch  in  the  religious  history  of  the 
world.  Even  to-day  they  are  in  sharp  contrast,  —  the 
Acropolis  still  reminding  us  of  the  splendor  of  pa- 
ganism, the  Areopagus  recalling  the  humble  origin  of 
Christianity.  On  the  former  the  eyes  need  but  little 
aid  from  the  imagination  to  reconstruct  the  ancient 
temples  in  their  early  beauty;  but  the  Areopagus, 
lying  much  lower  than  its  more  stately  rival,  seems 
as  stern  and  barren,  as  unfitted  for  seed  or  harvest, 
as  when  the  Apostle  stood  there.  No  monument, 
no  chapel,  no  church  reminds  us  of  Paul.  If  he  could 
stand  on  the  same  rock  to-day,  he  would  find  more 
physical  evidence  of  the  decay  of  paganism  than  of 
the  triumph  of  Christianity.  Unlike  Rome,  Athens 
has  no  vast  monuments  of  Christian  architecture.] 
The  Greeks  built  small  churches,  some  of  them  gems 
of  art;  but  they  dwindle  into  chapels  under  the 
magnificence  of  St.  Peter's.  Turning  his  eyes  from 
the  ruined  temples  of  the  Acropolis,  Paul  would  find 
nothing  more  beautiful  as  a  house  of  God  than  the 
marble  Theseion,  which  has  survived  the  shocks  of 


202         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

war  and  earthquake  for  more  than  two  thousand 
years  and  still  remains  the  most  perfectly  preserved 
Doric  temple  in  Greece.  If  Athens  had  nothing  else 
to  offer,  this  alone  would  repay  a  pilgrimage.  As  for 
the  altar  To  an  Unknown  Gody  'Ayvcoarcp  OeS,  —  and 
such  altars  were  remarked  by  Pausanias  as  well  as  by 
Paul,  —  it  has  not  been  found;  but  I  venture  to  say 
that  Athens  still  has  devotees  at  the  same  shrine, 
and  modern  agnosticism  has  affixed  an  interrogation 
point  after  the  name  of  God.  The  visitor  wonders 
why  Athens  has  not  made  more  of  the  Pauline 
episode.  There  is  a  church  in  the  city  named  after 
Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  who  is  said  to  have  been 
converted  by  Paul's  discourse,  but  none  dedicated 
to  the  Apostle.  It  may  be  that  the  rocky  pedestal 
on  which  he  stood,  and  still  more  the  fragment  of 
the  sermon  he  preached,  are  his  best  monument. 

At  Athens,  as  at  Rome,  one  is  compelled  to  ask 
himself  whether  Christianity  has  conquered  paganism 
after  all;  whether  the  result  of  the  contest  was  not 
more  of  a  compromise  than  a  victory,  the  assimilation 
of  paganism  rather  than  its  destruction. 

The  modern  Areopagus,  the  supreme  court  of 
Greece,  has  moved  its  seat  in  these  days  to  Stadion 
Street.  If  in  this  high  court  before  which  Ares  was 
arraigned  for  murder,  Christianity  were  tried  for 
deicide,  the  defender  of  the  Christian  pantheon  might 
perhaps  secure  an  acquittal  by  showing  that  pagan 
deities  are  not  dead,  but  have  taken  refuge  in  Chris- 
tian shrines.  With  a  search-warrant  from  the  same 
court  many  of  these  gods  might  be  found  lurking 
in  Greek  speech,  customs,  mythology  and  religious 
rites.     One  must  look  in  some  other  direction  for 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  203 

the  triumph  of  the  Christian  spirit  than  to  the  tra- 
ditions, dogmas,  mythology  and  symbolism  of  the 
Christian  church.  We  cannot  retrace  carefully  the 
pathways  of  history  without  seeing  that  Christianity 
was  a  growth,  a  development,  in  which  the  spirit  of 
Greek  philosophy  was  partially  reincarnated,  and  the 
different  attributes  of  the  Greek  gods  were  re-united 
in  the  tri-theistic  scheme  of  scholastic  theology.  The 
simple,  spiritual  monotheism  of  Jesus  presented  a 
sublime  contrast  to  the  innumerable  personifications 
of  paganism,  and  it  seemed  at  first  as  if  the  supreme 
contribution  of  Hebraism  to  religion,  the  idea  of  the 
unity  of  God,  was,  in  the  tender  ascription  of  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  to  remain  the  sole  theistic  formula  of 
Christianity.  This  might  have  been  the  case  if 
Christianity  had  been  propagated  in  Jewish  communi- 
ties only,  but  when  it  came  into  contact  with  Greek 
thought  and  tradition  it  encountered  a  fervent  form 
of  the  deifying  tendency  which  at  that  stage  had 
passed  from  the  personification  of  nature  to  the  ideali- 
zation of  human  beings.  If  it  had  lost  its  reverence 
for  the  old  gods,  it  had  still  vitality  enough  to  make 
new  ones.  This  Greek  tendency  which  insisted  upon 
the  temporary  deification  of  Barnabas  and  Paul,  found 
a  more  permanent  satisfaction  in  the  apotheosis  of 
Jesus.  The  exaltation  of  the  Plebrew  peasant  to  a 
place  in  the  godhead,  though  nominally  a  victory  for 
Christianity,  was  essentially  a  triumph  of  paganism, 
assisted  by  Jewish  material  derived  from  the  Messi- 
anic idea.  The  victory  assumed  new  proportions 
when  the  virgin  goddess,  adding  to  her  functions  that 
of  "the  Mother  of  God,"  became  a  fourth  person,  the 
idealization   of  maternity    and    womanhood,    in   the 


204         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

Christian  pantheon.  The  retinue  of  demons,  saints, 
angels  and  superhuman  beings  was  partly  a  develop- 
ment, partly  a  degeneration  from  Greek  and  Hebrew 
forms  of  the  divine  agency  and  manifestation.  The 
struggle  between  the  Hebrew  idea  of  unity  and  the 
Greek  conception  of  multiplicity  is  still  continued 
within  the  arena  of  Christianity.  At  times  the  pure 
ethical  theism  of  Jesus  bursts  forth  with  new  inspira- 
tion, and  the  Trinitarian  formula  becomes  a  thin,  in- 
definable theistic  mist;  at  times  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is 
lost  in  the  deific  splendor  of  the  Messianic  Christ. 
Christianity  is  not  yet  at  unity  with  itself. 

It  was  an  immense  advantage  to  the  new  religion 
to  find  already  woven  such  a  perfect  elastic  vesture  as 
the  Greek  language ;  but  it  could  not  wholly  wash  out 
of  its  texture  traces  of  the  early  ideas  it  had  served 
to  clothe.  Even  to  this  day  there  remain  words 
and  conceptions  in  common  use  which  were  part  of 
the  warp  and  woof  of  pagan  mythology.  But  if 
Christianity  had  to  take  the  dross,  it  took  also  the 
gold.  The  early  glow  of  the  Greek  conception  of 
immortality  faintly  tingeing  a  dark  background  of 
clouds  burst  into  daybreak  with  Plato,  and  came  into 
high  noon  in  Christianity.  Above  all,  the  moral 
fervor  of  the  Nazarene  caught  by  his  disciples  made 
itself  felt  like  a  purifying  flame. 

One  can  read  scarcely  any  of  the  early  Christian 
apologists  without  feeling  the  insufficiency  of  their 
intellectual  defence  of  Christianity  and  the  magnifi- 
cence of  their  moral  argument  in  its  favor.  Whether 
we  take  the  anonymous  Mathetes,  Aristides  writing 
at  Athens  his  apology  to  the  Emperor  Hadrian,  the 
apologies  of  Justin  Martyr,  or  Origen's  reply  to  Celsus, 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  205 

it  is  the  same.  Again  and  again  the  apologists,  wear- 
ing like  Justin  and  Aristides  the  philosopher's  garb, 
show  that  they  have  not  only  taken  the  clothes  of 
paganism  but  have  put  on  some  of  its  ideas.^  Thus 
we  find  Justin  pointing  out  pagan  analogies  to  Chris- 
tian doctrine  and  defending  the  miraculous  birth  of 
Jesus  against  attack  because  the  Greeks  had  taught 
similar  things.  lie  generously  admits  that  there  are 
seeds  of  truth  among  all  men,  but  the  false  teaching 
of  Greek  mythology  he  ascribed  to  the  work  of 
demons, —  a  doctrine  taught  earlier  by  Paul  and 
which  seemed  to  furnish  a  common  ground  for  both 
religions.2  On  the  other  hand,  Celsus,  the  pagan 
critic,  inverts  the  argument  and  shows  that  Christian 
myths  are  of  essentially  the  same  material  as  Greek 
ones.  The  moral  vigor  of  Christianity  and  its  new 
fraternal  socialism  furnished  a  better  solvent  for  de- 
generate heathenism  than  its  more  feeble  intellectual 
appeals.  In  its  ethical  and  social  ideals,  Christianity 
was  a  new  spiing-time  to  the  world. 

Remembering  that  we  are  on  the  Areopagus,  we 
may  not  forget  the  admirable  courtesy  of  the  Christian 
preacher  who  quotes  from  Aratus,  a  Greek  poet,  in 
proof  of  the  universal  fatherhood  of  God.  Cleanthes 
had  a  similar  ascription  in  his  beautiful  hymn.  One 
must  be  careful  not  to  confound  the  Greek  religion 
wholly  with  the  terrible  pictures  painted  by  the  apol- 
ogists, as  if  such  moral  degeneracy  were  its  only  and 

1  All  the  pagan  usages  which  did  not  shock  the  new  faith  were 
continued  in  Christian  society;  and  it  must  be  owned  that  the  lan- 
guage of  the  first  Greek  Christians  accepts  this  alliance  in  a  remark- 
able manner.  —  Byzantine  Art.  By  Charles  Texier  and  R.  Popplewell 
Pullah.   Lond. 

2  I  Cor.  X,  20. 


206         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

inevitable  result.  We  should  not  wish  Christianity 
to-day  to  be  held  solely  responsible  for  the  moral 
darkness  of  any  of  the  great  cities  of  the  modern 
world.  If  we  must  take  the  Greek  religion  at  its 
worst,  we  must  take  it  also  at  its  best.  If  it  did  not 
stand  for  the  Unnamed  and  Invisible,  as  did  Hebraism, 
it  incarnated  and  unveiled,  as  Hebraism  failed  to  do, 
the  divinely  Beautiful.  It  applied  religion  to  the 
whole  range  of  human  life ;  it  was  not  oppressed  by 
a  hierarchy,  and  its  ethical  ideals  and  precepts  have 
formed  a  permanent  contribution  to  the  development 
of  human  morals.  Over  the  door  of  its  temple 
it  could  write :  "  He  who  enters  the  incense-filled 
temple  must  be  holy,  and  holiness  is  to  have  a  pure 
mind." 

Externally  there  is  such  a  strong  difference  between 
the  Greek  temple  and  the  Byzantine  church  that  the 
casual  observer  sees  no  relation  between  them.  But 
the  heritage  is  there.  It  is  seen  first  in  the  division 
of  the  interior  of  the  Byzantine  church  into  three  parts, 
—  narthex,  nave,  and  sanctuary,  —  corresponding  to 
the  pronaos,  naos,  and  opisthodomos  of  the  Greek 
temple.  The  sub-division  of  these  parts  may  obscure 
but  does  not  destroy  the  original  threefold  arrange- 
ment. The  pagan  heritage  is  seen,  too,  in  the  orien- 
tation of  the  Byzantine  church  with  the  altar  towards 
the  east,  —  a  survival  of  the  custom,  found  in  Egyptian 
as  well  as  Greek  temples,  of  having  the  axis  of  the 
temple  point  to  the  rising  sun.  In  the  modern 
churches  the  doors  are  at  the  west  end,  with  the  altar 
at  the  other,  so  that  the  worshipper  faces  the  east. 
Early  Christian  writers  tried  with  much  ingenuity  to 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  207 

invest  the  practice  with  Christian  significance.  As 
Jesus  on  the  cross  had  turned  his  face  toward  the 
west,  so  Christians  during  the  hour  of  prayer  must 
turn  towards  the  east  in  order  to  see  his  face.  Neale 
notes  but  two  instances  of  departure  from  the  custom 
of  orientation  in  Greek  churches.  An  American 
worshipper  at  Westminster  sitting  in  the  north  tran- 
sept where  the  seats  face  south  was  surprised  to  find 
about  half  of  the  congregation  turning  in  their  pews 
and  facino;  the  east  at  certain  times  in  the  service. 
We  cannot  deny  that  these  Anglicans  are  good 
Christians;  we  can  only  add  that  they  are  likewise 
good  pagans.  A  reaction  from  the  practice  of  orien- 
tation occurred  in  the  ninth  century,  when  it  was 
finally  decided  that  God  might  be  worshipped  at  or 
towards  any  point  of  the  compass,  for  God  is  every- 
where. 

In  substance  as  well  as  in  form,  many  of  the  old 
Byzantine  churches  were  built  from  stones  of  the 
heathen  temples  which  preceded  them.  A  sense  of 
triumph  was  gratified  in  the  building  of  Saint  Sophia 
at  Constantinople  by  sacking  Greek  temples  for  the 
material.  Elsewhere  economical  as  well  as  pious 
reasons  prevailed,  and  the  Christian  builders  put  in 
stones  or  ornaments  to  save  labor.  This  sometimes 
produced  a  curious  effect,  as  in  the  beautiful  church 
at  Tegea,  where  all  sorts  of  fragments  have  been 
worked  into  the  walls.  In  the  little  Metropolitan 
Church  at  Athens  an  ancient  Greek  calendar  of  festi- 
vals is  used  as  a  frieze,  sanctified  for  the  Christian  eye 
by  the  addition  of  crosses.  **  The  month  Poseidon, 
December  and  January,  in  which  the  Dionysus  festi- 
val took  place,  is  symbolized  by  three  athlothetes  sit- 


208        THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

ting  behind  the  table  with  crowns.     Below  them  are 
two  cocks  about  to  fight  on  a  palm  branch."  ^ 

The  heathen  legacy  lurks  also  in  customs  and  super- 
stitions still  current  among  the  people.  Every  re- 
ligion has  its  external  and  authoritative  creeds  and 
formulas,  but  there  is  always  a  body  of  tradition  or 
belief  held  in  solution  in  the  minds  of  the  people 
and  transmitted  by  oral  tradition.  The  doctrine  of 
demons  finds  priestly  recognition  in  the  Greek  bap- 
tismal service  when  devils  and  demons  are  exorcised 
by  the  priest  by  blowing  and  spitting;  and  Neale  in 
his  history  of  the  Eastern  Church  notes  the  popular 
belief  that  those  who  die  excommunicated  cannot 
return  to  dust,  but  become  vampires  ;  that  they  are 
tempted  by  evil  spirits  and  roam  about  by  night 
seeking  a  body.  The  Greek  word  BaifKov,  used  in 
the  sense  of  divine  power  or  to  denote  gods  of  lesser 
rank,  became  the  common  term  for  evil  spirits  in 
the  New  Testament,  and  retains  that  meaning  to- 
day. Under  the  general  designation  of  the  "  angels  " 
or  the  **  devil  and  his  demons,"  polytheism  took 
possession  of  the  lower  story  of  the  Christian  pan- 
theon. In  modern  Greece  a  dread  of  devils  and 
demons  survives  among  the  more  ignorant  and  super- 
stitious peasantry.  Fear  mingled  with  irony  or 
humor  has  resulted  in  the  use  of  various  euphemisms 
or  polite  terms  with  which  to  designate  his  Satanic 
Majesty,  just  as  the  ancients  propitiated  the  Erinyes 
or  Furies  by  describing  them  as  the  gracious  god- 
desses (^Ev/jbevlBe^^.  A  curious  instance  of  this 
euphemism  is  seen  in  the  word  for  smallpox,  etdogia, 

1  Miss  Jane  Harrison's  Mythology  and  Monuments  of  Ancient 
Athens,  p.  278. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  209 

or  blessing.^  On  the  other  hand,  to  the  devil  and  to 
evil  spirits  are  ascribed  sickness  and  misfortune. 
The  New  Testament  term  for  epilepsy,  o-eXTjvLd^o/xaL, 
from  the  supposed  influence  of  the  moon  upon  this 
disease,  is  retained,  like  our  word  lunatic. 

The  heathen  gods  have  not  always  been  turned 
into  demons;  they  also  reappear  as  saints.  Ships 
which  used  to  bear  the  figure  of  Poseidon  now  bear 
that  of  Saint  Nicholas,  who  is  supposed  to  furnish  the 
same  protection.  Many  churches  have  not  only  been 
built  from  ancient  material,  but  we  find  that  "  the 
saint  to  whom  they  are  dedicated  has,  as  it  were,  by 
compromise  in  the  old  struggle  between  paganism 
and  Christianity,  often  inherited  the  miraculous  power 
attributed  to  the  deity  whom  he  has  superseded."  ^ 
Mr.  Rodd  notes  that  '*  a  church  dedicated  to  the 
Panaghia  Blastike  (the  virgin  of  fecundity)  has  been 
shown  to  occupy  the  site  of  a  temple  of  Eilythuia,  the 
deity  who  presided  over  childbirth,  represented  also 
not  unfrequently  now  by  Saint  Marina."  Churches 
dedicated  to  Saint  Demetrius  occupy  the  foundation 
of  several  shrines  of  Demeter.  At  Athens,  one  of  the 
churches  of  Saint  Nicholas  is  built  on  the  site  which 
was  sacred  to  Poseidon.^  The  island  of  Naxos  has 
transferred  the  honor  it  once  paid  to  Dionysus  to  the 
Christian  saint  Dionysius,  and  fifty  years  ago  a  curious 
story  was  in  circulation  as  to  how  the  saint  brought 
the  grape  to  the  island.* 

1  This  word  is  derived  by  some  etymologists  from  ciKpXoyia 
{(pXeyu,  to  burn),  but  all  consciousness  of  this  derivation  has  dis- 
appeared in  the  popular  use  of  the  term. 

2  Customs  and  Lore  of  Modern  Greece,  by  Rennell  Rodd,  p.  140. 

3  Ibid.,  p,  142. 

*  Hahn's  Neugriechische  Marchen. 
14 


2IO         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

The  same  adaptation  of  the  heathen  idea  was  seen 
at  Rome  when  the  Pantheon  became  the  Church  of 
All  Saints.  As  Athene  was  the  personification  of  di- 
vine intellect,  so  it  was  easy,  following  the  example 
of  Constantius,  to  change  the  Parthenon  into  St. 
Sophia,  the  temple  of  Divine  Wisdom,  —  a  personi- 
fication which  had  become  familiar  in  the  gnostic 
system.^ 

The  names  of  some  of  the  lesser  deities,  and  even 
some  of  their  attributes,  survive  in  the  minds  of  the 
more  ignorant.  Thus  there  are  the  Molpac  or  Fates, 
generally  three  in  number,  who  preside  over  marriage 
and  birth  and  are  supposed  to  influence  the  new-born 
child.  They  are  recognized  in  the  ballads  of  the 
people  and  propitiated  in  various  ways.  Charon  re- 
appears as  Xapo9.  He  is  no  longer  simply  the 
ferryman  wrangling  about  the  fare,  as  Lucian  describes 
him  in  his  witty  parody  ;  he  is  the  angel  messenger, 
the  synonym  of  death.  In  Corfu  and  in  several  parts 
of  Epirus,  when  one  dies  it  is  common  to  say  that 
"  Charon  has  taken  him."  In  some  of  the  Klephtic 
ballads  it  is  clear  that  the  ancient  Greek  view  of 
death  is  more  prevalent  than  the  later  Christian  idea, 
and  that  death  is  not  regarded  as  a  release  or  reward, 
but  as  a  deprivation  of  the  joys  of  life,  the  brightness 
of  the  sun,  the  green  grass,  the  song  of  the  bird.  The 
Nereids  appear  also  in  popular  poetry,  beautiful  and 

1  The  custom  of  designating  by  the  name  of  St.  Sophia  the 
churches  placed  under  invocation  of  the  Divine  Wisdom  became 
general  among  western  writers,  notwithstanding  the  confusion  which 
might  have  arisen  by  the  fact  that  there  was  a  saint  by  that  same 
name.  It  is  impossible  to  enumerate  all  the  Greek  churches  dedi- 
cated to  St.  Sophia.  The  Emperors  erected  such  in  all  the  principal 
towns  of  the  empire. — Byzantine  Art.    Texier  and  Pullah. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  211 

accomplished  creatures,  living  in  wood  and  air,  spring 
and  mountain.^ 

As  we  trace  heathen  influence  in  Christian  doctrine, 
ceremonies,  tradition,  and  in  the  physical  structure  of 
Christian  temples,  it  is  not  surprising  that  it  may  be 
found  in  the  decorations  and  symbolism  of  Christian 
art.  It  appears  distinctly  in  the  early  representations 
of  Christ  as  Orpheus  found  on  coins  and  in  the  cata- 
combs. "  While  evidently  adopted  from  the  heathen 
mythology,  with  which  the  early  converts  were  so 
familiar,  its  application  to  Christianity  was  felt  to  be 
very  legitimate.  Orpheus,  seated  with  his  lyre  among 
the  trees,  and  surrounded  by  the  wild  beasts  that  the 
sweetness  of  his  music  had  tamed,  might  well  be 
taken  as  an  emblem  of  the  attractive  force  of  Christ."  ^ 
The  nimbus  is  also  of  heathen  origin,  and  may  be 
found  on  the  coins  of  the  early  emperors,  —  a  symbol 
of  power  rather  than  holiness,  and  perhaps  a  souvenir 
of  sun  worship.  It  was  conferred  by  later  artists  upon 
Satan?  the  Magi,  and  King  Herod,  and  upon  allegor- 
ical figures.  When  the  angel,  the  lion,  the  ox,  and 
the  eagle  represented  the  four  apostles,  the  heads  of 
the  creatures  were  encircled  by  the  nimbus.  The 
phoenix  was  accepted  by  Tertullian  as  a  symbol  of 
the  resurrection,  and  the  eagle  which  had  served  as 
the  symbol  of  Zeus  became  the  symbol  of  John  the 
Evangelist.      The    lion    appeared    in    many    aspects. 

Representations  of  the  devil  and  of  demons  are  not 
found  in  the  art  of  the  first  three  or  four  centuries ; 

1  For  a  full  presentation  of  Modem  Greek  mythology,  see  M.  B. 
Schmidt's  Volksleben  der  Neugiiechen,  and  MeAexT;  enl  rod  fiiov  rStP 
NewTcpav  'E\\-f]V(i}V  vnh  N.  T.  UoAirov. 

2  Syrabolism  in  Christian  Art,  by  F.  Edward  Hulme. 


212         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

in  the  Middle  Ages  they  were  depicted  in  horrible 
and  grotesque  forms.  On  the  other  hand  the  honors 
paid  to  the  saints  almost  amounted  to  worship,  and 
in  some  churches  not  the  Saviour,  but  the  saint 
to  whom  it  was  dedicated,  was  made  the  central 
figure. 

The  Greek  objection  to  images  in  or  upon  their 
churches,  as  well  as  a  better  sense  of  what  is  congru- 
ous in  the  relations  of  religion  and  art,  has  kept  the 
Greek  Christian  churches  free  from  those  grotesque 
anomalies  in  art  which  disfigure  English  and  Euro- 
pean cathedrals.  Seen  as  a  whole,  Salisbury  in  its 
unity  and  beauty  is  an  architectural  psalm,  but  if  one 
pauses  as  he  enters  the  west  door  to  look  at  the  gar- 
goyles, his  feelings  become  anything  but  worshipful. 
It  seems  curious  that  such  figures  could  have  been 
put  on  the  front  of  a  church  to  satirize  the  piety  and 
disturb  the  seriousness  of  those  who  enter.  The 
ugliness  is  not  the  ugliness  of  crudity;  it  exists  in 
immediate  conjunction  with  figures  of  exquisite 
beauty;  the  buffoonery  is  deliberate.  Some  of  these 
figures  have  a  long  pedigree,  and  find  their  origin  in 
early  symbolism  reproduced  with  quaint  simplicity  or 
conscious  exaggeration ;  in  others  it  seems  that  the 
sculptor  or  carver,  taking  advantage  of  the  spirit  of 
his  time  which  permitted  such  extravagance,  grati- 
fied his  sense  of  humor  by  introducing  curious  fig- 
ures of  his  own  invention.  This  love  of  satire  was 
shown  in  reproducing  scriptural  scenes  and  in  deal- 
ing with  Old  Testament  miracles  and  characters. 
Here  the  humor  is  introduced  in  the  freedom  with 
which  the  artist  treats  the  incident  On  the  other 
hand  a  large  number  of  these  representations  seem  to 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  213 

be  nothing  but  caricatures  of  the  life  and  spirit  of 
the  time.  In  Boston  minster,  in  the  choir  stalls,  a 
schoolmaster  is  whipping  a  boy  across  his  knee,  and 
a  woman  is  beating  her  husband,  as  the  verger  ex- 
plained to  me,  "  because  he  had  been  out  too  late  at 
night."  Elsewhere  there  are  carvings  of  pigs  playing 
on  the  organ  or  on  the  harp.  What  a  curious  lot  of 
gargoyles  all  around  the  quad  at  Magdalen  College ! 
They  are  as  ridiculous  as  the  Greek  representations 
of  figures  in  Aristophanes,  only  the  Greeks  did  not 
put  them  on  their  churches.  At  Salisbury  the  curi- 
ous wink  of  one  of  the  figures  shows  where  the  work- 
men meant  the  laugh  to  come  in.  Some  woman- 
hater  has  carved  the  serpent  with  a  female  head. 
The  clergy  provoked  the  darts  of  satire.  A  head 
with  three  faces  caricatures  a  bishop  looking  all 
ways  at  once.  In  that  quaint  old  parish  church  at 
Amesbury,  which  you  may  see  on  the  way  to  Stone- 
henge,  a  demon  has  caught  hold  of  an  unlucky 
creature  by  the  arm  and  is  eating  him,  as  the  rec- 
tor said,  *'  as  if  he  were  a  radish."  You  cross  the 
channel  to  Normandy,  and  at  Dol  find  seasick  dogs 
serving  as  gargoyles  on  the  cathedral.  Those  at  the 
Palais  de  Justice  at  Rouen  are  especially  long  and 
doleful,  and  appear  to  be  howling  dreadfully.  At  the 
cathedral  in  the  same  city,  there  is  a  whole  menagerie 
of  animals,  —  rabbits,  dogs,  centaurs,  monkeys  with 
pig  heads  and  representations  of  many  beasts  that 
never  had  any  existence.  The  centaur  is  worked  up 
in  all  forms  of  extravagance ;  a  female  saint  has  a 
monkey  or  demon  over  her  shoulder  blowing  a  pair 
of  bellows  just  in  front  of  her  chin.  But  examples  of 
satire  and  sarcasm,  of  coarse  caricature  and  comedy, 


214         THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

are  too  numerous  to  mention.     A  volume  would  be 
needed  merely  to  catalogue  them.^ 

What  a  strong  contrast  in  all  this  to  the  stateliness, 
dignity  and  beauty  of  the  old  Greek  temples !  On 
the  Parthenon  was  a  lion's  head  as  a  waterspout,  but 
no  demonic  gargoyle,  and  among  the  grand  sculp- 
tures of  tympanum  and  frieze  no  caricature  disturbed 
the  sobriety  of  the  worshipper. 


II 

THE  MODERN  GREEK  CHURCH 

Planted  on  Greek  soil,  deeply  rooted  in  the  sub- 
stratum of  the  early  religion  and  drawing  nurture 
from  it,  the  modern  Greek  Church  claims  a  Christian 
history  of  nineteen  centuries.  It  is  easier  to  admit 
its  nineteen  centuries  of  existence  than  nineteen  cen- 
turies of  development.  Prouder  of  appealing  to  its 
traditions  than  of  outgrowing  them,  it  is  not  animated 
by  the  progressive  spirit,  and,  having  adjusted  itself 
once  for  all  to  the  problems  of  the  past,  sees  no 
reason  why  it  should  trouble  itself  about  those  of  the 
present.  To  a  New  England  Congregationalist  unac- 
customed to  a  liturgy  or  the  tactics  and  pomp  of  re- 
ligious ritual,  the  modern  Greek  Church  is  peculiar. 
The  difficult  problems  which  oppress  the  parish  com- 
mittee in  New  England  are  unknown  in  Greece.     The 

1  For  a  valuable  discussion  of  this  whole  subject,  together  with  the 
bibliography,  see  "  Animal  Symbolism  in  Ecclesiastical  Architecture," 
by  E.  p.  Evans,  New  York,  1896.  For  those  at  Rouen,  see  Jules 
Adeline,  "  Les  Sculptures  Grotesques  et  Symboliques  "  (Rouen  et 
environs)  Rouen,  1879. 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  2l5 

pew  question  in  its  varied  forms  does  not  appear, 
because  there  are  no  pews  in  a  Greek  church  and 
everybody  stands.  The  question  as  to  which  one  of 
half  a  dozen  preachers  shall  be  engaged  does  not  vex 
the  congregation,  for  the  parish  priest  does  not  preach. 
The  problem  of  the  minister's  salary  is  avoided  by 
not  paying  him  any.  There  is  no  occasion  to  quarrel 
over  hymn-books  or  choir,  for  neither  exists  in  our 
sense  of  the  word,  and  the  antiphonal  responses  of 
nasal  priests  and  acolytes  would  hardly  be  called 
music.  The  practice  of  dividing  the  sexes  which  was 
common  in  New  England  fifty  years  ago  still  pre- 
vails in  Greece.  If  there  is  a  gallery,  as  in  the  Met- 
ropolitan Church  at  Athens,  the  women  are  assigned 
to  it.  If  not,  they  stand  on  one  side  of  the  church 
and  the  men  on  the  other.  An  American  Baptist 
would  claim  an  affinity  with  this  ancient  church  in  its 
application  of  the  rite  by  immersion ;  but  he  must  be- 
ware how  he  appeals  to  the  Greek  usage,  since  they 
immerse  infants  thrice,  when  to  a  Presbyterian  a  few 
drops  of  water  applied  once  would  suffice.  The 
traveller  who  comes  to  Athens  from  Rome  assumes 
at  first  that  ecclesiastically  Athens  and  Rome  are 
not  far  apart.  He  soon  finds  that  as  far  as  is  the 
east  from  the  west,  so  far  is  Athens  from  Rome. 
They  each  claim  to  be  built  upon  an  apostolic  rock. 
"  Thou  art  Peter,  and  upon  this  rock  I  build  my 
church,"  says  Rome,  metaphorically,  while  Athens 
points  with  literal  pride  to  the  rock  upon  which  Paul 
preached  his  sermon.  Just  as  these  two  apostles 
stood  over  against  each  other  in  New  Testament 
times,  so  the  Petrine  and  Pauline  churches  seem  to 
stand   over   against   each    other   to-day.     Joined   to- 


2l6         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

gether  for  centuries,  the  differences  between  these 
ancient  churches  now  seem  to  be  irreconcilable. 

As  he  enters  a  Greek  church  the  visitor  will  find 
no  chapels  flanking  the  aisles,  as  in  a  Roman  Catho- 
lic cathedral;  there  is  but  one  altar,  and  that  he 
will  not  see.  A  screen  with  three  doors  hides  it 
from  view  and,  divides  the  sanctuary  from  the  nave. 
The  statues  which  abound  in  the  Roman  church  are 
entirely  absent  in  the  Greek,  but  there  are  pictures  of 
the  saints  and  the  Virgin  called  *'  icons  "  or  "  images." 
They  recall  the  great  iconoclastic  controversies  which 
raged  in  the  East  and  the  West,  and  in  which  the 
Hebrew  and  the  Greek  spirit  came  into  conflict. 
When  we  remember  what  Paul  said  at  Athens 
against  idolatry,  **  We  ought  not  to  think  that  the 
Godhead  is  like  unto  gold,  or  silver,  or  stone,  graven 
by  art  and  man's  device,"  it  is  interesting  to  think  of 
the  battle  on  this  very  subject  which  came  up  a  few 
centuries  later,  and  which  was  continued  till  842  A.  D. 
in  the  Eastern  church,  when  the  use  of  images  was 
finally  sanctioned.  But  the  victory  for  paganism  was 
not  a  victory  for  art.  Undoubtedly  the  old  Greeks 
made  precisely  the  same  distinctions  that  were  made 
in  the  image-worship  controversy;  the  more  intelli- 
gent regarded  the  image  as  a  symbol,  the  ignorant 
worshipped  the  picture  or  the  stone.  Many  of  the 
Greek  images  were  exquisite  works  of  art;  in  the 
Christian  church  a  miserable  daub  might  answer 
the  purpose  of  worship  as  well  as  a  more  perfect 
picture. 

The  Greek,  like  the  Roman,  makes  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  but  in  a  different  way.  It  is  occasionally  used, 
as  Neander  says  it  was  in  the  days  of  Tertullian,  "  as 


THE   SHRINES    OF  ATTICA  21/ 

the  sign  which  the  Christians  unconsciously  made  in  all 
cases  of  sudden  surprise."  An  acolyte  in  a  monastery 
suddenly  crossed  himself  when  I  told  him  something 
novel,  even  though  there  was  nothing  dangerous  in 
the  information.  He  used  the  sign  as  an  exclamation 
point  or  a  pious  interjection. 

Unlike  the  Roman  Church,  the  Greek  Church  ad- 
ministers the  communion  in  both  kinds,  using  leavened 
bread,  —  the  outcome  of  another  controversy,  —  and 
giving  the  wine  in  a  spoon.  The  priests  are  Naza- 
renes,  shaving  neither  head  nor  beard.  Marriage  is 
permitted  to  priests  before  their  ordination ;  but  no 
priest  can  marry  a  second  time  after  the  death  of  his 
wife,  nor  can  he  become  a  bishop  and  remain  in  the 
marriage  relation.  His  wife,  if  he  had  one,  would 
retire  to  a  convent;  but  promotions  are  invariably 
made  from  unmarried  clergymen. 

The  full  title  of  the  Greek  Church  is  The  Holy 
Oriental  Orthodox  Catholic  Apostolic  Church.  The 
doctrinal  contents  of  the  creeds  of  the  Eastern  and 
Western  churches  are  essentially  the  same.  The  Ni- 
cene  Creed  is  the  basis  of  all  the  confessions;  but  that 
little  word  Jilioqtie,  which  lighted  raging  flames  of  con- 
troversy wherein  the  procession  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
was  declared  from  the  Son  as  well  as  from  the  Father, 
is  omitted  from  the  Greek  creed.  The  dogma  of  the 
Papal  infallibility  has  likewise  no  place  in  it. 

The  Greek  Church  proper,  like  the  Russian  and 
other  national  churches  of  the  same  faith,  is  gov- 
erned by  a  synod.  The  metropolitan  is  the  official 
head  of  the  church,  but  there  is  a  close  union  be- 
tween State  and  Church,  and  in  the  matter  of  pre- 
ferments and  appointments  the  political  authority  is 


2l8         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

superior  to  the  ecclesiastical.  There  are  three  orders 
of  priesthood,  —  deacons,  elders  and  bishops.  The 
officers  of  the  church  are  archdeacons,  archimandrites, 
archbishops,  metropolitans,  and  patriarchs.  The  name 
patriarch  is  retained  by  the  patriarch  at  Constanti- 
nople, but  he  has  no  authority  over  the  churches  in 
Greece,  Russia,  Bulgaria  or  Servia.  The  only  remin- 
iscence of  his  supremacy  is  seen  in  his  preparation 
and  blessing  of  the  consecrating  oil. 

The  Greek  priests,  on  the  whole,  are  more  paternal 
than  autocratic.  Many  of  them  are  very  ignorant, 
and  could  not  preach  a  sermon  if  they  were  required 
to  do  so.  Only  those  having  special  fitness  as 
preachers  are  engaged  for  that  office.  Ecclesiastical 
schools  have  been  established,  and  there  is  one  in 
Athens  to  which  young  men  preparing  themselves 
for  the  priesthood  are  admitted  and  taught  from  four 
to  five  years.  Some  go  in  to  the  university  in  the 
theological  department;  many  others,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  modern  education,  become  philologists, 
doctors,  and  lawyers.  When  the  candidate  has 
reached  the  age  of  twenty-five  years  he  may  become 
a  deacon,  and  at  thirty  a  priest.  Of  the  deacons,  part 
are  married  and  part  are  unmarried,  but  they  cannot 
marry  after  ordination  ;  and  an  archimandrite,  like  a 
bishop,  must  be  unmarried.  For  elevation  to  the 
bishopric  the  synod  nominates  three  persons,  of 
whom  the  Minister  of  Ecclesiastical  Affairs  and  Pub- 
lic Education  chooses  one.  The  priests  receive  no 
stipend  from  the  government  nor  from  the  congre- 
gation. The  monasteries  have  been  alarmed  by  a 
proposed  scheme  for  selling  all  monastic  property  and 
establishing  a  salary  fund  for  the  clergy.     Some  of 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  219 

the  monasteries  are  very  rich.  One  on  the  slope  of 
Pentelicus,  which  I  visited,  has  an  income  of  two  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  a  year.  The  parish  priest  is 
wholly  dependent,  however,  upon  the  fees  he  receives 
from  marriages,  baptisms,  consecration  of  a  new 
house,  prayers  for  the  dead  and  other  priestly  minis- 
trations. In  the  country,  priests  often  do  not  receive 
more  than  $75  to  $175  a  year,  and  in  Athens,  from 
$225  to  $375,  in  the  way  of  offerings.  The  salary  of 
the  metropolitan  is  six  thousand  drachmas,  which, 
with  the  present  depreciation  of  the  drachma,  is  about 
$750.  An  archbishop  receives  five  thousand  drachmas 
and  a  bishop  four  thousand.  The  parish  priest  is  gen- 
erally obliged  to  eke  out  his  income  by  other  occupa- 
tions, usually  by  farming  or  keeping  a  store.  The 
priests  thus  stand  less  apart  from  the  life  of  the 
people  than  they  do  in  Italy.  Many  of  them  are  earn- 
est, sweet-spirited  men  who  tenderly  lead  their  flock. 

When  I  think  of  the  Greek  priests,  I  think  not  so 
much  of  the  nasal  phonograph  who  is  mechanically 
repeating  the  service,  as  of  the  sweet-faced,  Christ-like 
man  I  saw  in  Euboea,  the  prison  chaplain  in  Athens, 
who  to  me  was  a  modern  version  of  the  Apostle 
John,  —  Pater  Anthimos,  broad-chested,  liberal,  studi- 
ous and  large-hearted  ;  and  I  think  of  the  charming 
picture  which  Bikelas  has  drawn  of  Papa  Narkissos 
in  his  *'  Tales  of  the  JEgean.'' 

A  pleasant  picture  comes  up  before  me,  too,  of  the 
late  Metropolitan  Germanus,  a  man  honored  and  es- 
teemed for  his  learning,  piety,  and  kindly  heart.  He 
received  me  with  warmth,  and  expressed  his  interest 
in  America.  When  I  asked  him  how  it  was  that  the 
Greek  Church  was  able  to  maintain  its  unity  so  com- 


220         THE  ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

pletely,  especially  in  these  modern  days,  he  picked 
up  his  Greek  Testament,  which  lay  conveniently  near, 
turned  to  2  Thessalonians,  ii.,  and  put  his  finger  on 
the  fifteenth  verse : 

"Apa  ovv^  aSe\(f>OL,  aTrjKere,  koL  Kparelre  Ta<i  irapa- 
SoVei?,  a?  iBiBdxOrjre,  etre  ha  \6yov  elVe  Sl*  i'jnaroXrjf; 
rjpLOiv.  "  So,  then,  brethren,  stand  fast,  and  hold  the 
traditions  which  ye  were  taught,  whether  by  word,  or 
by  epistle  of  ours." 

"  It  is,"  he  said,  **  because  we  have  followed  the 
apostle's  injunction." 

After  a  pleasant  conversation  I  took  his  hand,  on 
leaving,  to  kiss  it,  according  to  Eastern  custom.  Ke 
held  it  down,  however,  to  prevent  this  tribute  of  re- 
spect, then  threw  his  arms  over  my  shoulders  and 
kissed  me  on  each  cheek.  The  validity  of  a  Protestant 
ordination  he  recognized  by  inviting  me  to  attend  the 
services  in  the  Metropolitan  Church  on  the  approach- 
ing fete  and  to  witness  the  ceremonies  at  the  altar 
behind  the  screen.  This  is  a  privilege  not  accorded 
to  the  layman,  whether  peasant  or  king. 

The  Greek  Church  is  ceremonial  in  the  highest  de- 
gree. To  an  outsider  its  ritual  is  long  and  wearisome, 
but  I  have  talked  with  devout  and  intelligent  Greeks 
who  found  in  it  the  greatest  happiness.  It  lacks 
the  grandeur  of  organ,  orchestra,  and  voices,  which 
often  make  the  service  in  the  Roman  Church  impres- 
sive. Its  extensive  liturgy  is  contained  in  several 
volumes.  A  Greek  friend  waxed  eloquent  as  he 
spoke  of  the  tenderness  and  beauty  of  the  Passion 
service.  "There  are  beauties  in  our  Passion  service," 
said  my  friend,  '*  that  you  will  not  find  in  any  other 
church."     A  cultivated  lady  likewise  assured  me  of 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  221 

the  satisfaction  which  devout  and  poetic  members  of 
the  Greek  Church  reared  in  its  worship  might  find 
in  its  offices.  The  dogmas  of  the  Church  are  not  ob- 
truded ;  a  mystic  veil  of  allusion  or  symbolism  seems 
to  invest  the  whole  service.  The  holy  table,  its  four 
legs,  the  doors  of  the  screen,  the  sacred  vessels  are  all 
highly  symbolical,  and  no  Svvedenborgian  deahng  with 
the  Old  Testament  rites  could  go  further  in  claiming 
correspondence  and  analogy. 

The  Church  is  not  only  a  religious  but  a  patriotic 
institution.  Its  national  character  gives  it  a  strong 
hold  upon  the  people,  and  upon  the  great  fete  days  the 
churches  are  crowded,  and  the  men  are  as  numerous 
as  the  women.  The  king  being  a  Lutheran,  is  not  a 
member  of  the  church,  but  the  queen,  the  crown 
prince,  and  other  members  of  the  royal  family  are 
included  in  its  membership  and  give  eclat  to  its 
festivals.  Of  these  the  most  impressive  are  Good 
Friday  and  Easter.  On  Good  Friday  evening,  after 
a  long  service  in  the  cathedral,  a  veiled  image  of  the 
Saviour,  laid  on  a  bier  and  covered  with  flowers,  is 
borne  through  the  streets,  escorted  by  a  band  play- 
ing a  dirge  and  priests  bearing  the  shroud  of  Jesus. 
Men,  women  and  children  with  lighted  candles  join 
the  procession,  but  the  solemn  effect  is  somewhat 
disturbed  by  the  Roman  candles,  Bengal  lights  and 
other  fireworks  from  windows  all  along  the  line  of 
march.  To  an  American  it  seems  like  a  funeral  held 
on  the  eve  of  the  Fourth  of  July. 

The  Easter  service  is  the  joyful  climax  of  a  Lent 
of  abstinence  and  sorrow.  The  service  begins  on 
Saturday  night.  At  Athens  it  is  conducted  in  the 
cathedral    by  the    metropolitan   with  crosier,   mitre, 


222  THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

and  brilliant  robes.  Immense  throngs  flock  to  the 
church.  Regiments-  of  infantry  deployed  through 
the  streets  keep  the  way  open  for  the  royal  family, 
who  are  escorted  to  the  cathedral  by  a  guard  of 
cavalry.  The  ministers  of  State  and  other  civil  offi- 
cials follow  in  carriages,  and  take  places  assigned  to 
them  in  the  cathedral.  The  square  outside  is  bril- 
liantly illuminated,  and  a  platform  has  been  erected 
and  decorated.  Just  before  midnight  the  metropoli- 
tan lights  a  candle,  saying,  "  Come,  take  light  from 
the  everlasting  light,  and  glorify  Christ  our  God,  who 
has  risen  from  the  dead."  The  prime  minister  lights 
his  torch  from  that  of  the  metropolitan.  The  other 
ministers  follow,  the  light  goes  from  torch  to  torch, 
from  priest  to  people.  Headed  by  the  metropolitan, 
the  procession  marches  out  of  the  cathedral,  and  just 
at  twelve  o'clock  from  the  platform  in  the  square  the 
metropolitan  proclaims  to  the  multitude  that  ''  Christ 
is  risen," —  Xpto-ro?  aviarr].  Bells  and  cannon  take 
up  the  theme.  The  Roman  candles  and  fireworks, 
which  seem  to  be  out  of  place  on  Good  Friday, 
now  symbolize  life  and  immortality  brought  to  light. 
Joyful  greetings,  "  Christ  is  risen,"  pass  through  the 
crowd.  The  Lenten  fast  is  over,  and  on  the  steps  of 
the  cathedral,  and  on  the  streets,  the  people  eat  the 
colored  boiled  eggs  they  had  brought  in  their  pockets 
and  then  go  home  to  more  elaborate  feasts. 

On  Easter  morning,  as  I  called  at  my  photogra- 
pher's, I  said,  X/oto-To?  avearr).  He  returned  the  salu- 
tation and  immediately  brought  me  an  egg  in  a  saucer, 
but  without  a  spoon.  For  some  days  all  other  forms  of 
salutation  give  way  to  that  of  "  Christ  is  risen,"  and  the 
answer  is,  'AXtjOw^  apearr],  —  "  He  is  risen  indeed." 


ATTIC  DAYS 

I  CANNOT  say  "Attic  Nights,"  for  that  title  has 
already  been  appropriated  by  '*  the  gentleman  who  pre- 
ceded me."  His  name  —  if  it  is  not  unparliamentary  to 
mention  it  —  is  Aulus  Gellius,  and  he  lived  some  1750 
years  ago.  He  was  born  at  Rome,  but  had  the  good 
fortune  to  go  to  Athens  to  study.  While  there  he  kept 
a  commonplace  book  in  which  he  jotted  down  what- 
ever he  happened  to  see  or  read  or  hear  that  was  curi- 
ous, his  object  being  to  provide  his  children  as  well  as 
himself  with  innocent  relaxation.  As  it  was  written 
during  the  winter  evenings,  he  called  his  book  "  Noctes 
Atticae."  It  is  a  sort  of  "  crazy  quilt,"  made  from  a  liter- 
ary scrap-bag,  with  little  order  or  arrangement,  but  it 
affords  a  wide  variety  of  information  upon  a  good  many 
subjects.  There  are  notes  and  dissertations  on  cus- 
toms, manners,  grammar,  marriage,  divorce,  loquacity, 
music,  the  patience  of  Socrates,  the  frugality  of  the 
ancients,  Alexander's  horse  Bucephalus,  memory, 
Herodes  Atticus,  and  a  multitude  of  other  themes. 
As  the  book  has  lasted  for  more  than  seventeen  centu- 
ries, it  is  natural  that  others  should  be  emulous  of  his 
immortality,  and  try  to  attain  it  in  the  same  way. 

Gellius  exhausted  the  Attic  nights,  but  fortunately 
left  the  Attic  days  to  posterity,  and  I  feel  at  liberty 
to  appropriate  a  small  share  of  them.  I  should 
despair  of  equalling  his  success  if  I  did  not  in  this 
tessellated  chapter  rival  the  miscellaneous  character 
of  his  commonplace  book. 


A  COMrOSITE  DAY 

Homer  liked  to  begin  his  day  with  the  "  rosy  fin- 
gered dawn,"  and  so  did  the  cock  that  crowed  on 
Homer  Street.  In  this  he  differed  much  from  my 
friend  the  diplomat,  who  probably  did  not  see  a  sun- 
rise while  he  was  in  Athens.  I  tried  to  make  myself 
believe  that  this  cock  was  crowing  hexameters  with 
a  caesura  in  the  third  foot,  — 

'HcXtoy  S'   dvopova-f,  \  Xittcou  TrepiKoKXea  Xifxvrjv,  — 

although  we  might  more  naturally  expect  of  a  rooster 
the  bucolic  diaeresis.  But  in  fact  he  did  not  seem  to 
be  talking  Greek  at  all ;  nothing  but  good  barnyard 
English.  The  Greeks  refuse  to  say  that  a  rooster 
"  crows  *' ;  nor  do  they,  like  the  French,  describe  him 
as  singing.  They  speak  of  him  as  *'  phoning,"  using 
to-day  exactly  the  same  term  which  the  Evangelist 
applied  to  the  cock  that  woke  the  conscience  of 
Peter.  Oddly  enough,  we  have  adopted  the  word 
in  English,  and  now  speak  in  good  Greek  of  "phon- 
ing "  to  our  friends.  "  In  Greece,"  says  Mr.  Edward 
A.  Freeman,  "  animals  seem  to  send  forth  louder  and 
clearer  notes  than  in  other  parts  of  the  world,"  and  he 
assumes  that  in  Corinth  the  cocks  crow  even  louder 
than  in  Athens.  If  the  distinguished  historian  in- 
tended this  as  a  challenge  for  a  vocal  contest  I  would 
match  the  Doric  rooster  in  Athens  against  any  cock 
of  the  Corinthian  order.     It  helps  to  make  one  feel 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  225 

at  home,  however,  to  find  roosters  crowing,  dogs 
barking,  children  laughing,  birds  singing,  horses 
neighing,  in  your  own  language.  I  did  find  one 
bird  talking  Greek.  It  was  a  parrot  at  Salamis: 
TraTraydXo  wpalo,  "  Pretty  Polly."  The  effect  was 
startling,  especially  to  hear  a  modern  Italian  noun 
coupled  with  an  adjective  which  Pindar  and  Plato 
used.  Even  parrots  in  two  words  remind  you  of  the 
new  Greece  and  its  hoary  past. 

If  the  phoning  of  the  rooster  did  not  "  call  me  up," 
Spiridion  was  sure  to  do  so  when  he  brought  my 
cup  of  hot  milk  and  a  breakfast  roll  with  the  morning 
paper.  Scarcely  was  the  breakfast  finished  at  eight, 
when  the  step  of  Georgios  was  heard  on  the  stairs, 
and  an  hour  was  spent  in  reading  or  talking  Greek. 
Martial  music  on  the  street  at  nine  o'clock  every 
morning  announced  the  guard  mount  at  the  war 
office. 

Then  one  had  a  chance  to  decide  in  what  century 
he  would  spend  the  next  few  hours.  You  could  as- 
cend the  Acropolis  and  live  in  the  age  of  Pericles, 
or  step  into  the  Museum  and  live  in  pre-Persian  days. 
You  could  return  by  way  of  the  Areopagus,  walk  into 
the  Christian  era,  preserve  your  historic  continuity 
by  passing  through  the  stoa  of  Hadrian  in  your 
Roman  toga,  and  enter  the  Byzantine  era  at  the  little 
Metropolitan  Church.  From  this  you  could  stride 
again  into  the  nineteenth  century  in  time  for  luncheon 
at  half-past  twelve.  If  you  are  making  a  specialty 
of  epigraphy,  ancient  inscriptions  in  the  Museum  are 
legible  indeed  compared  with  the  task  of  decipher- 
ing a  Greek  bill  of  fare  in  an  average  restaurant.  But, 
like  the  Rosctta  Stone,  one  often  finds  it  bi-lingual, 

IS 


226         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

and  if  he  cannot  read  the  Greek  scrawl  for  kreas, 
psomi,  and  avgay  he  can  get  his  bearings  with  viande, 
pain,  and  oeiifs.  In  the  larger  hotels  one  finds  Gallic 
cooking  as  well  as  Gallic  speech;  but  to  know  and 
appreciate  the  mysteries  and  possibilities  of  Greek 
cooking  one  must  live  in  a  family. 

Of  course  you  may  have  preferred  to  spend  your 
morning  in  the  charming  reading-room  of  the  Ameri- 
can Archaeological  School,  or  with  Professor  Tarbell 
and  his  students  wandering  like  belated  ghosts  among 
the  Attic  grave  reliefs  at  the  National  Museum,  or 
in  gayer  mood  disporting  yourself  among  the  ex- 
quisite Tanagra  figures  or  making  a  somersault  into 
still  more  ancient  history  among  the  treasures  of 
Mycenae.  Becoming  all  things  to  all  men,  you 
pricked  up  your  French  ears  when  you  attended 
the  opening  session  of  the  French  Archaeological 
School,  became  a  Teuton  when  you  went  to  the 
German  Institute,  Hellenized  yourself  at  the  Uni- 
versity when  you  heard  its  professors,  and  An- 
glicized yourself  at  some  meeting  of  the  British 
Archaeological  School.  Every  Saturday  afternoon 
at  two  o'clock,  from  October  to  March,  a  band  of 
archaeologists  gathered  round  Dr.  Dorpfeld  to  hear 
his  lecture  on  the  monuments  of  Athens.  It  was 
a  peripatetic  school  like  that  of  the  Stagirite;  and 
Aristotle  himself,  the  forerunner  of  modern  science, 
would  have  been  delighted  at  the  lecturer's  mar- 
vellous command  of  facts  and  his  wonderful  skill  in 
putting  them  together.  Beginning  with  the  Acrop- 
olis, all  the  principal  monuments  in  Athens  above 
ground,  and  some  below  ground,  were  visited  by 
this  pilgrim  band.     There  were  days  when  chill  bleak 


THE   SHRINES    OF  ATTICA  22/ 

winds  blustered  over  the  ancient  hill  or  gathered  up 
the  dust  in  spirals  and  swept  round  the  theatre  of 
Dionysus.  There  were  days  when  the  ground  was 
damp  and  the  stones  were  cold,  but  not  a  single  week 
for  five  months  was  a  lecture  omitted  on  account  of 
weather.  It  helps  us  to  understand  how  Plato,  Sopho- 
cles, and  Aristotle  used  to  teach  out  of  doors ! 

On  Sunday  one  could  go  to  the  Greek  Church  in 
the  morning,  and  then  have  time  to  hear  Dr.  Kalo- 
pothakes  preach  a  sermon  in  his  little  chapel  near 
the  Arch  of  Hadrian  and  hear  the  Greeks  sing  "  Old 
Hundred,"  ''Missionary  Chant,"  and  "Greenville," 
among  two  hundred  other  tunes  from  American  and 
English  hymnals,  the  words  themselves  mostly  trans- 
lated from  the  same  sources.  Among  them  you  would 
recognize  "  Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee." 

'Eyyvrepov,  Gee, 

'ETriTToBS) 
'Eyyvrepov  npos  2e 

N'  dw^coBo). 
"Eara  k    im  aravpov 
Qavdrov  crTvyepov 
*ApKel  va  evpcBa 
*Eyyvs  Trpos  2e'. 

Beyond  the  Arch  of  Hadrian,  in  imposing  contrast 
to  this  humble  evangelical  chapel,  stand  the  fifteen 
colossal  Corinthian  columns  of  the  great  temple  of 
the  Olympian  Zeus,  like  an  echo  from  the  past  to 
Miss  Adams's  hymn  voicing  the  soul's  aspiration  for 
God. 

As  for  your  Attic  nights,  if  you  did  not  spend 
them  with  Aulus  Gellius,  you  could  go  to  the  Ameri- 
can Archaeological  School  and  hear  Professor  J.  R. 


228         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

Wheeler's  valuable  lectures  on  the  Athens  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  or  drop  into  the  Parnassus  Club  and 
hear  Professor  Lambros  on  "  The  Early  Agora,"  or 
listen  to  the  one  event  of  the  season  in  chamber 
music,  —  the  concert  of  the  Vienna  string  quartet;  or, 
if  you  were  fortunate  enough  to  get  a  ticket,  go  to 
see  Sarah  Bernhardt,  over  whom  Athens  goes  crazy. 
As  Greek  plays  and  operas  seldom  begin  before  half- 
past  eight,  and  sometimes  do  not  get  fairly  launched 
before  nine,  and  then  last  until  after  midnight,  you 
might  sometimes  hear  the  Homeric  cock  crowing 
again  before  you  got  to  bed. 


II 

THE  ATHENIAN   PRESS 

A  DOZEN  daily  newspapers,  morning  and  evening, 
flourish  in  the  air  of  Athens.  I  doubt  if  there  is  any 
other  city  which  has  so  many  in  proportion  to  its 
population.  It  is  a  new  evidence  of  the  activity  of 
the  Greek  intellect,  and  of  the  ramifications  of  Greek 
politics.  News  is  not  more  plentiful  in  Athens  than 
elsewhere,  but  nowhere,  perhaps,  are  opinions  so 
abundant.  One  of  the  restaurants  bears  the  sign  'H 
KoLVT]  TvQ)fjL7],  Public  Opinion  ;  but  the  public  opinion  of 
Athens  could  not  be  concentrated  in  so  small  a  space, 
and  even  a  dozen  newspapers  cannot  give  it  full 
expression.  Its  variety  and  abundance  grows  out 
of  the  independent,  democratic  character  of  the  Greek 
mind.  I  know  of  no  country  on  the  face  of  the  globe 
in  which  democracy  is  more  rampant  and  more  indi- 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  229 

vidualistic.  To  me  this  is  one  of  the  surest  evidences 
that  the  Greeks  are  children  of  their  fathers.  Not 
even  a  dozen  newspapers  can  express  all  the  shades 
of  party  feeling  or  of  public  opinion.  You  must  go 
to  Constitution  Square  in  times  of  political  excite- 
ment, hear  the  hum  of  excited  voices  round  the  res- 
taurants, and  see  the  very  air  dizzy  with  discussion. 

You  will  not  be  surprised,  therefore,  as  you  take 
your  breakfast,  to  find  one  paper  pitching  into  the 
Prime  Minister  without  gloves,  while  another  is  return- 
ing blows  dealt  by  its  adversary  in  a  previous  issue. 
You  will  not  be  surprised  to  find  editors  making  ugly 
faces  at  the  royal  family,  shrugging  their  shoulders 
at  the  amount  of  the  royal  budget,  bewailing  the 
inefficiency  of  the  army,  or  attacking  the  financial 
policy  of  the  government;  and  you  may  be  sure  that 
somebody  else  will  speak  in  their  defence.  In  Ger- 
many these  doughty  editors  would  be  put  in  prison 
after  due  or  undue  process  of  law;  in  Greece,  criti- 
cism exhales  freely  into  the  air.  The  liberty  of  the 
press  is  not  abridged.  On  account  of  the  repeated 
attacks  of  that  paper  on  the  army,  a  club  of  army 
officers  foolishly  attacked  the  office  of  the  Acropolis 
and  destroyed  a  good  deal  of  property;  but  they 
really  damaged  their  own  cause  by  this  cowardly 
method  of  mob  violence,  and  public  opinion  con- 
demned them.  The  absurd  practice  of  duelling  still 
exists  in  Greece,  but  fortunately  most  of  it  is  done 
with  pen  and  ink. 

The  best  papers  furnish  news  as  well  as  opinions. 
It  is  served  in  readable  paragraphs,  telegraphic 
flashes,  in  letters  of  correspondents,  and  industrious 
There    is    an    abstract   of   debates    in 


230         THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

Parliament.  Loving  discussion  as  much  as  they  do, 
the  wonder  is  that  the  Greeks  have  not  two  legis- 
lative chambers  instead  of  one.  There  are  the  usual 
police  items,  reports  of  thefts,  fires,  accidents,  murders 
and  suicides,  and  a  sufficient  amount  of  social  gossip. 
The  journals  have  not  reached  the  enormous  propor- 
tions of  our  metropolitan  dailies;  the  regular  issue  is 
not  larger  than  four  pages  of  an  average  American 
daily.  A  ministerial  crisis,  a  revolution  in  Crete, 
a  Zante  earthquake  will  bring  out  an  eruption  of 
"  scare  heads ;  "  but  the  journals  are  far  less  sensational 
and  much  more  respectable  than  a  great  many  Amer- 
ican newspapers.  They  are  generous  too  in  aiding 
philanthropic  enterprises.  Wishing  to  stir  up  public 
opinion  in  Athens  in  relation  to  the  proper  protection 
of  animals,  I  found  the  columns  of  the  newspapers 
freely  open  to  me,  and  my  communications  were 
clinched  and  supported  by  the  editorial  pen. 

The  Greek  newspapers  draw  freely  from  the  French 
and  English,  and  sometimes  repeat  their  mistakes 
about  America.  But  though  it  is  natural  to  expect 
a  little  mythology  in  Greek  journals,  they  cannot 
begin  to  compete  with  American  newspapers  in  fabri- 
cating it. 

It  is  in  the  advertisements  that  new  things  are 
strangely  clothed  in  the  raiment  of  the  old  speech. 
Here  is  an  illustrated  advertisement  of  a  sewing 
machine,  'H  'FairTOfiTjxciVT},  covering  half  a  page; 
near  to  it  an  advertisement  of  HoErjXara,  bicycles. 
The  virtues  of  Se/iovXim,  a  cereal  food,  are  extolled 
as  a  diet  for  the  sick  and  the  aged.  Patent  medicines, 
hair  restoratives,  appeal  for  the  faith  once  reposed  in 
Athene  Hygieia.     There  are  "Rooms  to  Let,"  and 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  23 1 

"  Situations  Wanted."  Advertisements  of  new  books, 
wine  and  whiskey,  the  opening  of  schools,  the  move- 
ments of  steamers.  The  barber-shop,  that  indis- 
pensable adjunct  and  lounging  place  of  the  ancient 
Athenians,  is  announced  in  this  attractive  form :  — 

On  the  lower  floor  of  the  M Building  is  the  barber- 
shop of  Spiridion  K.  Arranged  in  the  most  elegant  Euro- 
pean style.  No  one  ever  leaves  it  dissatisfied,  so  light  and 
Parisian  is  the  art  of  shaving  and  hair-cutting  in  this  shop. 
Uniquely  artistic,  it  is  recommended  by  all,  and  continually 
resorted  to  by  those  who  love  a  good-looking  face. 

That  the  Greeks  have  not  wholly  lost  their  faith  in 
human  nature,  and  that  they  have  not  accepted  the 
communism  which  prevails  in  this  country,  is  seen  in 
an  advertisement  for  a  lost  umbrella.  Who  would 
think  of  advertising  for  one  in  our  land? 

XBes  Trjv  vvKTii  aTTcoXeadr)  I  ofi^pfKXa  eVi  rrjs  6S0O  SraStov,  dvriKpv 
rrjs  "ETpaTKOTiKTjs  Xeax^s.  'O  €vpa>v  TrapaKaXetTai  va  rrjv  <j)€pTj  els  t6 
7rtXo7ra>Xetoj/  tov  /c.  'PavroTTouXov,  ttXtjciov  rrjs  BovXrjsj  Xap^avatv  iv 
dojpov. 

Last  night  an  umbrella  was  lost  upon  Stadion  Street,  oppo- 
site the  Military  Club.  The  finder  is  requested  to  leave  it  at 
the  hat  store  of  Mr.  R.,  near  the  Parliament,  and  receive 
a  reward. 

The  persistence  of  ancient  forms  in  the  literary 
idiom  is  seen  in  the  Greek  of  this  advertisement. 
There  is  only  one  word  in  it  which  would  puzzle 
Xenophon,  or  which  the  modern  schoolboy  who 
has  begun  to  read  him  will  not  find  in  Liddell  and 
Scott.  The  purists  have  Atticized  "umbrella"  into 
aXe^L^po'^ov. 

Of  course  the  Athenian  newspaper  has  its  funny 


232         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES  OF  GREECE 

man,  but  I  am  disposed  to  believe  that  a  good  deal 
of  the  Attic  salt  is  imported,  and  is  one  of  the  few 
things  which  go  into  Greece  free  of  duty.  For 
example :  — 

A  young  man  is  hunting  a  girl  with  a  good  dowry.  He 
puts  this  question  to  a  lawyer  who  has  learned  to  get  cash 
payment  for  his  advice  :  "  I  would  like  to  ask,  sir,  if  you 
think  your  daughter  would  make  a  suitable  wife  for  me  ? " 

"No,  I  do  not  think  she  would.  Seven  and  a  half 
drachmas,  if  you  please." 

A  preacher  says  to  his  cook,  "  You  had  a  workman  eating 
with  you  last  evening,  Mary." 

"  He  was  my  brother." 

"  But  you  told  me  that  you  had  no  brother." 

"Yes,  but  didn't  you  preach  last  Sunday  that  we  were 
all  brothers  and  sisters.?" 

These  jokes  have  a  decidedly  American  flavor. 
But  I  wonder  if  these  Greek  humorists  have  ex- 
hausted the  treasures  of  the  Greek  anthology,  and 
why  they  do  not  publish  some  of  the  witty  sayings 
which  made  Athens  laugh  two  thousand  years  ago. 
In  the  way  of  exaggeration,  sarcasm  and  light  banter, 
nothing  could  exceed  the  saltiness  of  some  of  the 
ancient  epigrams. 

Little  Hermogenes,  when  he  lets  anything  fall  on  the 
ground,  has  to  drag  it  down  to  him  with  a  hook  at  the  end 
of  a  pole. 

Lean  Gaius  yesterday  breathed  his  very  last  breath, 
and  left  nothing  at  all  for  burial,  but  having  passed  down 
into  Hades  just  as  he  was  in  life,  flutters  there  the  thinnest 
of  the  anatomies  under  earth ;  and  his  kinsfolk  lifted  an 
empty  bier  on  their  shoulders,  inscribing  above  it,  "  This  is 
Gaius'  funeral.'' 


THE   SHRINES    OF  ATTICA  233 

Marcus  the  doctor  called  yesterday  on  the  marble  Zeus ; 
though  marble,  and  though  Zeus,  his  funeral  is  to-day. 

All  hail,  seven  pupils  of  Aristides  the  rhetorician,  four  walls 
and  three  benches. 

Antiochus  once  set  eyes  on  Lysimachus'  cushion,  and 
Lysimachus  never  set  eyes  on  his  cushion  again. 

Philo  had  a  boat,  the  "  Salvation,"  but  not  Zeus  himself,  I 
believe,  can  be  safe  in  her;  for  she  was  salvation  in  name 
only,  and  those  on  board  her  used  either  to  go  aground  or 
to  go  underground.^ 


Ill 

AN  ATHENIAN  SCHOOLBOY 

The  school  boys  and  girls  trudge  by.  A  peda- 
gogue does  not  lead  them  to-day,  and  they  have  to 
carry  their  own  books;  but  they  will  be  sure  to  meet 
the  pedagogue  when  they  get  to  school,  for  he 
bears  the  same  name  though  his  functions  have 
changed.  Even  the  son  of  the  sausage-seller,  who 
was  strangely  neglected  by  his  parents  in  ancient 
times,  may  sit  to-day  with  the  son  of  a  banker  or 
a  philosopher.  Plato's  dream  about  public  schools 
and  public  school  teachers  paid  by  the  state  did  not 
come  true  in  his  day,  but  is  true  in  ours.  Unlike  the 
ancient  pedagogues,  the  teachers  are  not  slaves,  but 
they  work  as  hard  as  if  they  were,  and  the  pay  is  very 
small.  But  what  a  satisfaction  it  would  have  been  for 
Plato,  who  was  himself  a  teacher  in  the  "  Academy," 

1  Select  Epigrams  from  the  Greek  Anthology.  Translated  by  J. 
W.  Mackail. 


234         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

to  learn  that  there  are  three  thousand  primary  and 
secondary  schools  in  Greece,  one  hundred  and  forty 
thousand  pupils,  and  thirty-seven  hundred  teachers, 
with  a  Greek  university  at  the  top !  The  pay  of 
the  teachers  ranges  from  twenty-five  to  thirty-five 
dollars  a  month.  Even  the  head  master  receives 
but  three  hundred  drachmas  a  month,  which  ought 
to  mean  fifty-four  dollars,  but  which  in  gold  may 
mean  but  thirty-five  or  forty.  There  are  also  pri- 
vate schools;  be  careful  that  you  do  not  misread 
their  signs.  In  a  walk  one  day  I  noticed  the  sign 
^IBlcotlkop  ^'x^oXecov.  I  naturally  thought  it  was  a 
school  for  idiots,  as  the  word  "  idioticon  "  would  liter- 
ally suggest  in  English ;  but  I  found  that  the  Greeks 
still  use  the  word  IBicIottj^  in  its  original  meaning  of  a 
private  individual,  and  that  therefore  the  sign  simply 
meant  a  "  Private  School  "  !  This  is  a  good  example 
of  the  tenacity  with  which  some  words  retain  their 
early  root  flavor.  Then  there  are  schools  which  have 
been  endowed  by  private  enterprise  but  are  under 
state  inspection  and  control.  The  Arsakeion  in  Athens 
is  a  girls'  high  and  normal  school  named  in  honor  of 
the  founder.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Hill,  an  American  mis- 
sionary of  the  Episcopal  Church,  is  held  in  grateful 
remembrance  by  the  people  of  Athens  for  the  stimu- 
lus he  gave  to  education  and  for  the  two  schools,  one 
primary  and  the  other  an  advanced  school  for  girls, 
which  he  founded.  Dr.  Hill  refused  to  regard  the 
Greeks  as  heathen,  and  did  not  therefore  attempt  to 
convert  them  to  his  form  of  Christianity.  "  We  shall 
always  remember  him  with  gratitude  and  love,"  said 
Miss  Sophia  Trikoupes  to  me  one  day. 

*'  A  little  child  shall  lead  them."     In  the  old  days 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  235 

the  pedagogue  led  the  child,  but  in  these  days  the 
child  often  leads  the  pedagogue.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  seeking  to  get  into  the  spirit  and  life  of  the  mod- 
ern tongue  I  might  find  something  in  a  school  for  chil- 
dren that  I  could  not  find  in  the  university.  It  is  not 
usual  for  a  pupil  to  be  in  the  university  and  in  the 
primary  school  at  the  same  time,  but  I  found  it  very 
interesting  to  go  to  school  in  the  morning  for  two 
hours,  and  then  to  hear  lectures  at  the  university  in 
the  afternoon.  This  primary  school  founded  by  Dr. 
Hill  is  still  called  the  "American  School."  ^Eschines 
in  his  oration  '*  Against  Timarchus  "  says  that  an  older 
person  was  not  allowed  to  enter  the  school  during 
school  hours  when  children  were  there  unless  one 
happened  to  be  a  brother,  a  daughter,  or  a  son  of  a 
teacher,  and  the  penalty  was  death.  As  I  did  not 
know  whether  this  ancient  law  had  ever  been  re- 
pealed, and  had  no  desire  of  risking  my  life  merely 
for  the  sake  of  getting  an  education,  I  claimed  re- 
lationship with  the  whole  school  as  an  American 
cousin,  and  was  graciously  received  by  Miss  Muir, 
the  principal,  and  her  assistants.  I  was  assigned  to 
a  class  of  girls  from  twelve  to  fifteen  years  of  age 
under  Miss  Marigo  Vlachou.  With  the  modesty  of 
aged  infancy  I  took  a  back  seat,  and  for  two  hours 
every  day,  when  other  engagements  did  not  prevent, 
used  to  sit  and  listen  to  the  recitations  of  the  girls 
of  my  class.  Sometimes  it  was  the  history  of  Greece, 
then  geography,  arithmetic,  physiology,  reading  or 
grammar.  The  teacher  would  call  Maria  —  there 
were  three  of  them  in  the  class  —  to  the  blackboard 
to  write  from  dictation  one  of  ^sop's  fables.  The 
rest  of  the  class  would  write  it  down  in  notebooks. 


236         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

Then  the  teacher  asked  or  would  give  the  modern 
equivalents  for  ancient  forms  or  obsolete  words.  It 
was  often  surprising  to  see  what  a  slight  paraphrase 
was  needed  to  render  the  story  intelligible.  In  the 
history  class  Sophia  would  read  a  paragraph,  and 
then  give  an  "  exegesis,"  closing  the  book  and  relat- 
ing it  in  her  own  words.  Joanna  then  read  the  same 
passage  and  gave  her  version.  Eustathia  read  an- 
other paragraph  with  more  exegesis.  When  it  came 
to  grammar  Anna  rattled  off  the  verbs,  and  Domna 
declined  the  nouns,  and  Angelike  explained  the 
accents. 

With  what  alacrity  the  scholars  took  their  books 
when  Miss  Vlachou  said,  *'  Gerostathes"  !  This  little 
volume,  written  by  Leon  Melas,  has  become  a  modern 
classic  in  Greek  schools.  "  Gerostathes  "  is  the  sup- 
posed name  of  a  grand  old  man  who  is  mentor  to 
all  the  boys  in  the  village  in  which  he  lives.  They 
love  to  gather  round  him  and  listen  to  stories  about 
the  old  times  and  talks  about  how  to  get  on  in  life. 
Without  being  priggish  or  prosaic,  he  weaves  excel- 
lent counsel  from  his  experience,  and  the  biographies 
of  Greek  leaders  and  heroes  and  philosophers  are 
drawn  upon  for  pleasing  illustrations.  Benjamin 
Franklin  is  introduced  as  an  American  philosopher 
of  practical  wisdom.  The  virtues  of  order,  courtesy, 
bodily  exercise,  reverence,  temperance,  self-control  are 
skilfully  used  to  color  and  tone  the  narrative.  It  is 
a  kind  of  Greek  "  Tel^maque,"  with  something  of  the 
modernness  of  ''  Francinet,"  a  popular  book  in  French 
schools.  I  have  asked  a  good  many  adult  Greeks  if 
they  had  read  "  Gerostathes,"  and  never  found  one 
who  did  not  recur  to  it  with  pleasure.     In  general, 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  237 

the  textbooks  in  Greek  schools  are  of  good  qual- 
ity, and  modern  methods  are  employed  in  teaching. 
Music  was  skilfully  taught  with  European  notes,  and 
when  Miss  Muir  wished  to  pay  a  compliment  to  the 
American  visitor  the  school  sang  *'  Hail,  Columbia;  " 
but  the  hymn  itself  compares  poorly  with  the  ode 
of  the  Zante  poet,  Solomos,  which,  set  to  music  by 
Mantzeros,  another  Ionian,  has  become  the  national 
hymn  of  Greece.  It  is  one  of  the  most  inspiring  of 
national  airs,  ranking  almost  with  the  Marseillaise. 

At  noon  we  had  a  romp  in  the  school  yard  or  a 
game  of  jackstones  after  lunch,  or  Alexander  the 
Little  would  read  or  dictate  to  me  during  recess. 
I  was  guilty  of  but  one  breach  of  discipline  during 
my  school  life,  and  that  was  when  I  pulled  the  long 
braid  of  Maria  Katsiropoulou,  who  sat  in  the  seat  in 
front  of  me ;  and  this  was  simply  to  break  the  ice  of 
formality  and  to  assure  Maria  and  the  rest  of  the 
class  of  my  youthful  sympathy. 

The  industrial  work  of  the  school  was  excellent,  and 
when  I  recall  the  older  girls  embroidering  an  altar 
cloth,  I  think  of  the  Athenian  maids  who  wrought  the 
peplos  for  Athene  so  many  centuries  ago. 

Somehow  these  little  children  won  my  heart.  They 
were  generally  known  as  my  sheep.  I  never  went  to 
the  blackboard  but  once,  and  that  was  when  the  girls 
were  downstairs  at  recess.  I  took  a  piece  of  chalk 
and  wrote, — 

'Ayairct)   ra  irpo^ara  fJLOV  koI  eXiri^o)  ore  ra  irpo^ard 
fiov  iirlar]^  /xk  dyaTTovv, 

As  the  girls  filed  in,  it  did  not  take  more  than  the 
flash  of  an  eye  to   read  my  message  and  to  ratify  it 


238         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

with  joyous  laughter.  You  may  not  understand 
it,  my  reader ;  it  is  not  important  that  you  should, 
but  Sophia  and  Maria,  Joanna,  Soteine,  Anna,  and 
all  the  rest  will  understand  it,  as  would  Paul  or  Soc- 
rates for  that  matter,  and  it  is  the  message  I  would 
send  to  my  classmates  to-day:  *'  I  love  my  sheep  and 
I  hope  that  my  sheep  love  me." 


IV 

MY  FRIEZE  OF  GOATS 

I  AM  the  owner  of  seven  goats.  I  own  them  just 
as  I  own  the  Parthenon,  the  Areopagus,  Lycabettus, 
or  Pentelicus.  They  are  mine  because  I  have  appro- 
priated them,  —  not  their  milk,  their  hair  or  their 
skins,  but  the  whole  goat,  horns,  beard,  hoof  and  all. 
I  do  not  mean  gastronomically,  but  optically.  Cows 
in  Athens  are  rare,  but  goats  and  donkeys  are  nu- 
merous. I  will  not  say  that  the  goat's  milk  flows  like 
water,  for  that  would  be  to  cast  doubts  upon  the 
honesty  of  the  milkman;  but  it  flows  in  sufficient 
quantity  to  return  a  good  revenue  of  coppers  to 
the  herdsman.  One  of  the  commonest  sights  in 
Athens  is  that  of  six  or  eight  sober-looking  goats- 
marching  through  the  streets,  driven  by  a  goatherd, 
who  carries  the  milk  measure  in  his  hand.  He  has 
a  regular  route  morning  and  afternoon.  When  he 
comes  to  the  house  of  a  customer,  he  milks  one  of 
the  goats,  receives  the  milk  in  his  measure,  and  pours 
it  into  the  servant's  pitcher.  There  are  a  few  cow 
stables ;  but  goat's  milk  is  the  fashion  in  Athens,  and, 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  239 

in  fact,  all  over  Greece.  It  is  no  new  fashion,  but, 
like  many  other  customs  of  this  people,  goes  back 
through  centuries. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  from  my  room  was 
a  small  garden,  with  a  wall  about  four  feet  high,  made 
of  nicely  fitted  slabs  of  stone  surmounted  by  an  iron 
railing.  Twice  a  day  the  goats  solemnly  came  down 
the  broad  street,  crossed  to  the  other  side  and  ranged 
themselves  along  this  garden  wall.  During  the  win- 
ter they  served  as  a  semi-diurnal  clock,  and  also  as  a 
zoological  thermometer.  When  I  looked  out  of  my 
window  of  a  morning  and  found  the  goats  there,  I 
knew  it  was  seven  o'clock.  If  they  hugged  the  wall 
closely,  I  knew  it  was  windy;  if  one  of  them 
Wore  a  blanket,  I  knew  it  was  cold.  In  milder 
weather,  one  or  two  of  them  might  venture  into  the 
middle  of  the  sidewalk ;  but  they  were  seldom  more 
than  a  foot  or  two  from  the  wall,  and  most  of  them 
stood  against  it  as  closely  as  if  they  were  posing  for 
a  Parthenon  frieze.  One  of  their  peculiarities  was 
that  they  never  faced  all  the  same  way.  It  was  most 
natural  for  them  to  halt  with  their  heads  in  the  direc- 
tion toward  which  they  were  going,  which  was  always 
toward  Lycabettus,  but  two  and  sometimes  more  of 
them  always  turned  round  and  faced  the  Acropolis. 
Whether  this  was  for  artistic  or  archaeological  rea- 
sons, or  whether  it  was  because  goats  are  often  more 
adversative  than  conjunctive,  I  did  not  discover;  but 
I  never  found  more  than  six  heads  facing  the  same 
way,  and  usually  but  three  or  four. 

There  are  some  advantages  in  driving  the  herd  of 
goats  to  the  customers.  The  milk  is  fresh.  There 
is  no  danger  of  getting  yesterday's  draft  instead  of  to- 


240         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

day's,  or  of  getting  a  skimmed  chalky  fluid  instead 
of  milk  with  a  roof  of  cream  on  it.  The  milkman  is 
not  obliged  to  carry  cans.  Each  goat  transports  her 
own  supply.  No  horse  or  wagon  is  needed.  I  had 
a  practical  proof  at  P^tras  of  the  advantage  of  the 
peripatetic  dairy.  I  was  about  to  take  the  train  at  an 
early  hour.  There  was  no  time  to  get  breakfast  before 
it  left.  On  the  way  to  the  depot  I  discovered  a  goat- 
herd with  his  flock,  and  asked  him  to  drive  the 
goats  to  the  train,  which  was  standing  on  the  track 
in  the  open  street.  The  herder  did  so,  milked  his 
goats  beside  the  car,  and  furnished  some  dcliciously 
sweet  milk,  which  I  drank  in  the  compartment.  One 
milkman  in  Athens  is  too  lazy  to  walk  with  his  herd. 
He  always  rides  ahead  on  a  small  donkey;  seven 
goats  follow,  and  a  dog  brings  up  the  rear.  Occa- 
sionally, a  milkman  may  be  seen  with  his  cans 
strapped  over  the  back  of  a  donkey,  while  his  cows 
or  goats  are  left  at  home;  but  no  such  thing  as 
a  milkman's  wagon  is  found  on  the  thoroughfares. 
From  what  humble  origins  are  great  words  some- 
times derived !  The  goat  has  given  his  name  to 
tragedy,  the  grandest  form  of  dramatic  art,  while 
a  galaxy  of  stars  preserves  in  other  languages  the 
memory  of  the  Greek  word  for  milk,  —  a  word  still  in 
common  use.  There  is  little  connection  between 
a  goat  and  a  tragedy  to-day;  but,  strangely  enough, 
my  frieze  of  goats  will  always  be  associated  with  a 
tragic  event  which  startled  Athens.  One  morning, 
just  as  they  made  their  usual  call,  and  ranged  them- 
selves against  the  garden  wall,  a  man  came  out  on 
the  lower  roof  of  the  house  behind  it,  and  shot  him- 
self.    The  fact  that  he  had  held  a  prominent  position 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  24 1 

in  a  bank,  and  was  the  victim  of  this  sudden  impulse 
in  a  moment  of  depression,  did  not  serve  to  delay  his 
funeral.  The  stigma  attached  to  suicide  cannot  be 
removed.  In  fact,  in  the  longer  catechism  of  the 
Graeco-Russian  Church  suicide  is  said  to  be  ''  the 
most  criminal  of  all  murders.  For  if  it  be  contrary 
to  nature  to  kill  another  man  like  unto  ourselves, 
much  more  is  it  contrary  to  nature  to  kill  our  own 
selves."  The  funeral  of  a  suicide  is  always  held  as 
soon  as  possible.  In  this  case  the  nj^n  was  buried 
without  a  priest  at  four  o'clock  the  same  afternoon, 
and  of  course  in  unconsecrated  ground.  Two  of  my 
friends  had  left  that  morning  on  an  excursion  for 
Marathon.  They  started  after  breakfast,  and  got 
back  to  a  seven  o'clock  dinner.  When  they  left,  this 
man  was  living ;  when  they  came  back,  he  had  been 
buried  three  hours. 


A  GREEK  BUGLE  CALL 

Buglers  are  common  in  Athens.  They  are  con- 
stantly coming  and  going  with  bands  of  soldiers,  and 
the  air  vibrates  with  martial  tones.  Usually  they  ex- 
cite no  special  attention,  but  one  evening  a  bugle  call 
brought  me  instantly  from  my  chair  to  my  feet.  I 
rushed  and  opened  the  window  to  make  sure  that 
I  was  not  deceived.  A  squad  of  soldiers  was  passing 
through  the  street  after  dark,  and  the  buglers  sud- 
denly struck  up  the  United  States  Army  "  Retreat." 
It  is  not,  as  the  uninitiated  might  suppose,  a  call  to 
fall  back  in  an  engagement,  but  is  the  daily  announce- 

16 


242  THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

ment  of  the  sunset  hour,  when  the  work  of  the  day  is 
over  and  the  tents  are  looped  down  for  the  night. 
How  startling  it  was  to  hear  this  bugle  call  in  Athens, 
and  what  memories  it  awakened  !  It  carried  me  back 
to  the  Yellowstone,  back  to  the  Big  Horn  and  the 
Black  Hills  with  Custer,  to  many  an  hour  in  that  far 
Northwest  when  the  sun  slowly  set  behind  the  hills, 
and  we  lay  down,  soon  after,  to  get  the  boon  of  sleep. 
I  have  heard  it,  too,  many  summers  on  the  fields  of 
Framingham  with  the  Massachusetts  Fifth.  It  is 
a  beautiful  call.  It  has  been  graved  on  my  brain 
through  a  long  series  of  associations,  both  glad  and 
tragic.  I  lost  no  time  in  finding  a  cavalry  officer, 
and  sang  the  call  to  him.  He  informed  me  that  it 
was  the  Greek  cavalry  "  Retreat,"  and  had  probably 
come  from  the  Bavarian  soldiers  when  Otho  was  king 
of  Greece.  Another  officer  said  the  same  call  is 
used  in  the  French  service.  The  tune  thus  appears 
to  be  of  foreign  origin,  and  as  international  as  the 
tune  "America,"  which  is  used  in  Germany,  Great 
Britain,  and  the  United  States. 


VI 

A  THEBAN  TERRA-COTTA 

I  SECURED  one  day,  much  to  my  satisfaction,  a  little 
Theban  terra-cotta,  in  all  probability  a  few  centuries 
older  than  the  Christian  religion.  A  boy  is  carrying 
a  rooster.  The  boy  is  very  small,  and  the  rooster  is 
very  large.  This  disproportion  in  size  furnishes  the 
artist  with  an  opportunity  to  show  how  much  humor 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  243 

may  be  put  into  sober  clay.  The  boy  has  flung  both 
arms  round  the  bird,  whose  head  is  affectionately 
tucked  in  the  boy's  neck.  The  cock  exhibits  no  sign 
of  distress  or  discomfort.  But  the  load  is  so  large 
that  the  boy  staggers  under  it;  and  a  Greek  might 
ask,  "  Why  does  not  theT6oster  spread  his  wings  and 
carry  the  boy,  as  the  eagle  of  Zeus  bore  off  Gany- 
mede?" It  is  just  such*a  little  figure  as  makes  one 
say,  "  How  funny !  how  cunning !  "  The  affection  of 
the  boy  for  his  bird  is  undoubted ;  and,  if  you  stop 
there,  it  is  all  right.  But  one  is  impelled  to  ask 
other  questions,  such  as,  "  Where  had  this  boy  been 
with  the  cock,  and  why  is  he  carrying  him  home  in 
such  sturdy  triumph?  "  And  then  the  archaeologist, 
who  never  likes  to  break  a  material  image,  but  who 
is  iconoclastic  enough  in  breaking  many  of  the  mental 
images  we  form  concerning  them,  tells  us  that  the 
chances  are  two  to  one  that  the  bird  is  a  game  bird, 
and  that  the  boy  is  just  returning  from  a  cock-fight. 
I  am  sorry  to  say  that  the  boy  looks  as  if  he  might 
be  that  sort  of  boy,  and  the  rooster  looks  as  if  he 
might  be  that  sort  of  bird. 


VII 

A  TREASURY  OF  BONES 

On  the  day  consecrated  to  Saint  Theodore  all 
Athens  goes  to  the  modern  cemetery.  It  is  a  me- 
morial day  for  the  dead.  Wreaths  and  crosses 
and  other  floral  offerings  are  taken  to  the  graves. 
After  a  public  service  private  devotions  are  held  at 


244         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

many  tombs.  As  I  wandered  about  the  cemetery 
I  noticed  a  sort  of  round  house  filled  with  boxes  and 
bags.  The  boxes  were  closed  and  I  had  no  clew  to 
their  contents ;  but  a  few  bones  protruded  from  the 
bags.  A  priest  who  stood  near  asked  if  I  wished  to 
find  the  bones  of  any  of  n!y  friends.  I  assured  him 
I  did  not.  On  questio#p(^im  I  found  that  after 
three  years  the  dead  are  oSWterred,  and  their  bones 
put  in  boxes  or  bags,  properly  tagged  or  numbered. 
On  this  memorial  day  it  is  customary  to  ask  for  the 
bones  of  departed  friends  or  relatives,  and  to  hold 
services  over  them.  If  the  bones  are  found  to  be 
perfectly  white  when  disinterred,  it  is  a  proof  of 
saintliness.  This  depositary  of  bones  is  called  a 
KOKKaXoOrjKT),  In  some  places  the  bones  are  heaped 
together  promiscuously,  and  medical  students  have  no 
difficulty  in  getting  enough  for  a  skeleton.  Georgios 
tells  me  that  from  Easter  to  Pentecost  the  soul  is  free 
from  punishment,  and  goes  where  it  pleases,  but  after 
that  time  must  return  to  its  usual  abode. 


VIII 

AN  ATHENIAN  TETRADRACHMA 

I  HAVE  a  silver  coin  on  my  watch  guard.  The  bright 
face  it  bears  is  as  unperturbed  as  it  has  been  for  two 
thousand  five  hundred  years.  Think  of  a  face  pass- 
ing through  so  many  political  contests  of  immense 
importance,  and  yet  maintaining  its  ineffable  com- 
posure !  But  it  is  the  image  of  a  goddess,  and  one  I 
have  long  been  accustomed  to  worship  in  a  Christian 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  245 

way  —  the  goddess  Athene.  It  stands  out  in  bold 
relief  on  the  thick,  rude,  not  quite  round  piece  of 
silver  on  which  it  is  stamped.  It  is  undeniably  pleas- 
ant. A  face  on  a  coin  ought  to  be  more  of  a  ben- 
ediction than  a  curse.  Athene  could  look  terribly 
stern  sometimes,  wheri^fT^iiinc^n  her  enemies ;  and 


at  such  times  the  Ij^^jiha^or  her  enemies  was  to 
get  out  of  her  way.^^Hrwhen  she  engaged  in  the 
arts  of  peace  and  industry,  as  she  wisely  did,  her  face 
could  wear  as  benign  an  expression  as  benignity 
itself.  Her  helmet  on  this  coin  is  simple,  bearing  a 
few  leaves,  beneath  which  may  be  seen  the  folds  of 
her  hair ;  and  she  is  naughty  enough  here,  as  in  a  sculp- 
ture already  noted,  to  wear  earrings.  If  I  were  to 
make  out  a  passport  for  this  face,  I  should  phrase  it 
in  the  ambiguous  diplomacy  of  those  official  descrip- 
tions which  suit  a  thousand  persons  as  well  as  one,  — 
**  Forehead  medium,  eyes  metallic,  nose  prominent, 
mouth  regular,  chin  small,  face  oval."  On  the  reverse 
beneath  the  rim  is  the  owl ;  in  the  left-hand  corner 
are  three  olive  leaves,  the  emblem  of  Athene ;  and 
on  the  right  hand  the  three  letters  **  A  0  E." 

But  this  face  needs  no  passport  from  the  United 
States,  or  from  any  other  government.  It  will  pass 
for  its  weight  in  silver,  in  the  market,  as  it  would  have 
passed  twenty-five  centuries  ago ;  but  to  the  antiquary 
it  is  more  nearly  worth  its  weight  in  gold.  Its  weight 
is  two  hundred  and  sixty  grains,  which  shows  it  to  be 
a  tetradrachma.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that,  before 
the  time  of  Alexander,  all  Greek  coins  bore  sacred 
subjects  only.  Mythology  was  thus  carried  into  the 
mart.  The  tradesman  was  distinctly  reminded  of 
his  religion  when  he  received  or  gave  out  coin.     But 


246         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

there  is  no  evidence  that  the  gods  were  expected  to 
furnish  miraculously  to  coins  a  value  which  they  did 
not  possess  in  themselves.  The  good-natured  face 
of  Athene  coyld  not  keep  a  coin  at  par  if  it  were 
not  of  full  weigh^  There  was  no  fiat  about  it.  If 
the  Athenians  had  rai^j^^fc^e,  they  undoubtedly 
had  faith  in  Solon,  \vR^^^^Be  superintendent  of 
the  mint,  as  well  as  the^^^miey-general.  I  have 
wondered  if  this  tetradrachma  were  coined  while  he 
was  living,  and  if  it  ever  passed  through  his  hands ; 
whether  Socrates  ever  handled  it  in  the  Agora,  or 
whether  Pericles  used  it  to  help  pay  the  cost  of  the 
Parthenon.  I  have  wondered  if  Paul,  after  giving  his 
famous  address  on  the  Areopagus,  used  this  heathen 
coin  in  part  payment  of  his  expenses,  or  whether  it 
went  with  him  on  any  of  his  missionary  journeys. 
The  Attic  coins  were  good  the  world  over,  and  they 
travelled  widely.  It  was  in  Athens  that  I  came  into 
possession  of  this  piece,  which  one  of  the  most  cel- 
ebrated experts  in  numismatics  in  the  world  dates  at 
500  or  550  B.  C.  I  have  wondered  how  many  times  it 
has  bought  the  worth  of  its  own  weight  and  value,  — 
about  seventy-two  cents ;  though  the  purchasing  power 
of  a  four-drachma  piece  was  relatively  much  greater. 
Athene  has  gone  out  of  the  Grecian  Pantheon.  The 
owl  is  not  so  sacred  as  it  used  to  be ;  but  the  olive 
still  grows  in  the  soil  of  Greece,  and  this  piece  of 
silver,  if  it  were  melted  down,  would  pass  for  the 
worth  of  its  weight  and  purity,  as  it  may  have  passed 
a  thousand  times  before.  The  bright  face  of  Athene, 
the  wise  owl,  and  the  fruitful  olive  upon  it  are  symbols 
of  an  ancient  faith,  which  was  reverenced  in  the  mart 
as  in  the  temple. 


UNiVERS^TY 

THE  SHRINES  OF  ATTICA  247 


.^ 


IX 

SOME  GREEK  VASl 


One  of  them  is  a ^^^^^BT  a  double  handle.  It 
would  hold  just  about^BB^h  oatmeal  for  my  morn- 
ing breakfast  portion  ;  but  I  have  never  yet  desecrated 
it  to  any  base  utility.  It  is  black,  the  only  color  being 
round  the  base.  A  little  pitcher  with  a  scalloped 
rim  combines  portliness  with  grace,  —  a  thing  not  easy 
to  accomplish.  It  is  black,  Attic  in  form,  but  without 
decoration.  Then  there  are  two  little  pitchers  from 
Tanagra,  the  large  one  about  four  inches  high,  the 
smaller  one  not  more  than  three.  It  is  doubtful  if 
the  smaller  one  was  ever  used  for  what  it  could  hold, 
or  the  large  one  either,  for  that  matter.  They  may 
have  been  used  as  toys  or  ornaments,  but  were  de- 
voted to  the  dead  more  likely  than  to  the  living.  The 
features  are  sharply  and  distinctly  cut.  It  is  the  face 
of  a  woman.  The  nose  is  very  long,  and  the  counte- 
nance has  a  decidedly  Egyptian  cast.  I  suppose  it 
was  not  a  portrait  of  an  individual,  but  of  a  type,  —  a 
composite  picture,  so  to  speak,  by  the  artist's  instinct 
made  radical  and  typical. 

I  should  like  to  know  the  history  of  this  little  vase, 
—  what  eyes  looked  upon  it,  who  tenderly  handled  it, 
or  to  whom  it  was  dedicated  among  the  grave  offerings. 
For  nobody  whom  we  ever  heard  of;  for  somebody, 
it  may  be,  who  lived  the  common  round  of  life,  whose 
heart  was  warm  and  whose  hand  willing,  and  who 
smiled  and  danced  and  helped  to  make  life  as  joyous 


248  THE  ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

as  it  seemed  to  be  away  back  in  that  Greek  town. 
Tanagra  had  its  tragedies.  It  was  the  scene  of  a 
bloody  battle  between  the  Spartans  and  the  Athenians, 
457  B.C.,  in  which  the  town  must  have  suffered;  but 
the  memorials  \v4i4ch  thesepeople  have  left  have  not 
been  of  sadness  an^^or^^^fctof  the  joy  and  grace 
and  poetry  of  life.  No^WT??!^  of  statuettes  in  the 
world  is  more  charming  l^hfwrthe  Tanagra  figurines 
in  the  museum  at  Athens.  Though  Greece  has  been 
robbed  of  a  great  many  of  her  treasures,  and  a  great 
deal  of  Tanagra  art  has  gone  abroad,  she  has  pre- 
served these;  and  nowhere  have  such  charming, 
graceful  representations  of  human  life  been  put  into 
clay.  If  these  people  did  not  think  life  worth  living, 
who  did? 


X 

THE  GREEK   CALENDAR 

Writing  from  Athens,  I  found  myself,  like  a 
pendulum,  swinging  between  the  old  calendar  and 
the  new.  The  Greek  calendar  is  twelve  days  behind 
the  reckoning  of  Europe.  Thus,  when  it  is  the  first 
of  the  month  in  Greece,  it  is  the  thirteenth  of  the 
month  in  Europe  and  America.  It  is  not  easy  to 
become  accustomed  to  this  difference.  The  Greeks 
frequently  date  their  letters  in  both  calendars ;  but  I 
find  it  hard  enough  to  remember  one  date  and  one 
calendar.  It  is  quite  flattering  to  find,  on  arriving  in 
Greece,  that  you  are  twelve  days  younger  than  you 
had  thought.  It  disposes  one  to  adopt  the  Greek 
calendar.  It  may  be  of  decided  advantage  in  taking 
out  a  life  insurance  policy. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  249 

There  is  some  practical  benefit  in  keeping  up  an 
active  connection  with  both  calendars.  The  duplica- 
tion of  a  holiday  is  occasionally  a  luxury.  The  resi- 
dent of  Athens  can  keep  the  same  feasts  twice  over. 
Thus,  one  Sunday  was  observed  by  the  Europeans 
here  as  Christmas  Day,  anc^  the.  English  Church  was 
crowded.  But,  accor^pg^^e  Greek  calendar,  the 
25th  of  December  wourafPot  arrive  until  Europe  had 
counted  the  6th  of  January.  There  is  thus  an  op- 
portunity in  Athens  to  attend  two  Christmas  din- 
ners; and  the  second  need  not  be  eaten  until  the 
first  has  had  twelve  days  to  digest,  —  a  point  of  great 
importance  when  English  plum-pudding  and  mince- 
pie  are  on  the  first  bill  of  fare.  There  is  the  same 
opportunity  of  duplicating  New  Year's  Day,  and 
every  other  feast  which  is  registered  in  both  calen- 
dars. But  it  is  a  question  of  grave  doubt  with  me 
whether  a  man  ought  to  be  privileged  under  this 
arrangement  to  keep  his  own  birthday  twice  in  the 
same  month  unless  he  has  been  born  again. 


XI 

GREEK  PHILANTHROPY 

Philanthropy  is  not  only  a  Greek  word,  but  is 
finding  practical  exposition  in  Greek  life.  An  excel- 
lent institution  is  the  Parnassus  Club,  which  has  now 
been  in  existence  for  thirty  years.  It  is  an  important 
social,  educational,  and  philanthropic  society,  whose 
influence  is  not  only  felt  in  Athens  but  in  other  cities 
of  Greece.  Its  fine  building  in  Athens,  costing  one 
hundred  and  eighty-five  thousand  drachmas,  is  fitted 


250         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

up  with  club-rooms,  reading-room,  and  library  for 
members,  with  a  large  hall  for  lectures  and  concerts, 
and  on  the  lower  floors  class-rooms  for  the  poor  boys 
who  are  educated  by  the  Society.  Night  schools  are 
maintained  for  newsboys  and  bootblacks,  and  others 
who  work  during  the  day.  Over  twelve  hundred 
boys  are  thus  provide(J^Tor  )^e|rly.  Courses  of  lec- 
tures of  popular  interest  zj^held.  The  club  with 
its  wide  membership  is  a  social  as  well  as  an  educa- 
tive influence. 

Then  there  are  hospitals  for  the  insane,  for  the 
incurable,  and  for  general  invalids.  A  society  of 
Friends  of  the  Poor  retains  ten  doctors,  who  visit 
the  poor  when  sick.  The  Friends  of  the  People 
engage  in  the  work  of  popular  instruction.  The  Asy- 
lum of  St.  Catharine  shelters  orphan  girls.  Another 
society,  organized  by  Madame  Parren,  furnishes  in- 
struction and  help  to  working-girls.  Under  the 
presidency  of  Mademoiselle  Kehaya  a  prisoner's  aid 
association  conducts  schools  in  the  prison  near  Athens, 
and  distributes  literature.  This  and  other  societies 
are  under  the  patronage  of  the  queen,  who  is  active  in 
all  benevolent  work.  The  recent  war  with  Turkey  laid 
an  immense  task  on  the  women  of  Athens,  which  they 
fulfilled  with  remarkable  energy  and  devotion.  They 
forwarded  medical  supplies  to  the  field,  established  a 
hospital  with  trained  nurses  for  the  wounded,  shel- 
tered the  refugees,  and  are  now  seeking  to  educate 
the  children  made  orphans  through  the  war.  There 
are  various  other  educational  and  philanthropic  move- 
ments. I  do  not  undertake  to  catalogue  them  here, 
but  simply  to  show  that  the  Greeks  are  fulfilling  the 
second  commandment  as  well  as  the  first. 


ATTIC   WANDERINGS 

Who  would  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  shrines  of 
Greece  without  traversing  the  Sacred  Way  to  Eleusis? 
One  may  go  by  rail  to  this  seat  of  the  ancient  mys- 
teries,—  a  method  prosaic  to  us,  but  which  would 
seem  sufficiently  mysterious  to  the  uninitiated.  He 
may  sail,  as  I  did  once,  from  Salamis  into  the  glassy 
bay  which  seemed  to  be  under  the  spell  of  a  holy 
calm.  But  better  still  is  it  to  go  from  Athens  by  the 
Sacred  Way  which  so  many  pilgrim  feet  once  trod  in 
the  great  processions  to  Eleusis.  This  road  was  in 
ancient  days  a  street  of  tombs,  most  of  which  have 
crumbled  into  oblivion,  like  the  memory  of  those  to 
whom  they  were  dedicated. 

Historically  and  geographically,  the  Convent  of 
Daphne,  built  in  Prankish  times  on  the  site  of  an 
ancient  temple  of  Apollo,  is  a  half-way  house  beau- 
tifully situated.  The  double  sanctity  of  a  Christian 
church  on  a  heathen  foundation  provoked  Mr.  Edward 
A.  Freeman  to  a  little  pious  swearing :  **  Here,  as  on 
the  Athenian  Acropolis,  we  may  curse  the  name  of 
Elgin,  and  bewail  the  columns  carried  off  from  their 
own  place  to  lose  beauty,  value  and  interest  in  an 
English  museum."  The  excavations  of  the  Greek 
Archaeological  Society  have  uncovered  the  site  of  the 
great  temple  where  the  Eleusinian  mysteries  were 
celebrated.  The  close  student  may  follow  the  lines 
of  this  structure  beneath  later  Greek  and  Roman  res- 


252  THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

torations.  One  may  trace  too  the  encircling  wall  of 
the  sacred  precinct  and  the  plan  of  the  propylaea, 
and  may  find  here  several  epochs  of  Greek  architec- 
ture from  the  earliest  period  to  Roman  times.  The 
lover  of  details  will  note  some  of  the  exquisite  cap- 
itals, and  that  the  Doric  columns  have  flat  edges 
between  the  channellings,  wliich,  if  less  incisive,  are 
much  more  practical  than  the  sharp  edges,  easily 
nicked,  at  Athens. 

But  deeper  questions  absorb  us.  We  are  in  one 
of  the  most  sacred  places  in  Greece.  The  ruins 
of  this  temple  speak  in  hushed  tones  of  an  inner 
sanctuary  of  the  Greek  religion.  The  veil  of  mystery 
still  hangs  over  the  portals,  and  no  one  has  as  yet  pen- 
etrated into  the  dim  interior  of  this  secrecy.  It  does 
not  follow  that  esoteric  rites  and  reputed  mysteries 
are  more  deeply  religious  than  those  which  are  less 
exclusive ;  but  here  it  would  seem  that  a  more  per- 
sonal dedication  of  the  initiated  led  to  deeper  spir- 
itual experience.  The  greatest  contribution  which 
Greece  made  to  religion,  however,  was  not  in  the 
establishment  of  an  exclusive  n.ystic  cult,  not  in  the 
separation  of  the  Church  from  the  world,  but  in 
the  diffusion  of  religion  through  every  department 
of  life ;  and  whatever  Eleusis  may  have  done  for  the 
development  of  the  belief  in  a  future  life,  it  has  exer- 
cised no  such  influence  on  the  world  as  the  lofty,  un- 
concealed argument  of  Plato  based  upon  the  nature 
of  the  human  soul.  But  it  is  well  that  Eleusis  should 
remind  us  that  the  Greek  religion  did  not  lie  wholly 
on  the  surface,  and  that  we  have  not  yet  sounded  its 
depths.  Crinagoras  of  Mitylene,  a  court  poet  at 
Rome  in  the  age  of  Augustus,  could  write :  — 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  253 

Though  thy  Hfe  be  fixed  in  one  place,  and  thou  neither 
sailest  the  sea  nor  treadest  the  paths  of  the  dry  land,  go  at 
least  to  Eleusis,  that  thou  mayest  see  those  great  nights, 
sacred  to  Demeter,  through  which  thou  shalt  keep  thy  soul 
serene  among  the  living  and  go  to  join  the  great  host  with  a 
lighter  heart. 

The  visitor  is  well  repaid  by  the  charming  view 
across  the  bay  to  Salamis.  The  new  town  of  Eleusis 
has  been  moved  down  from  the  hill  to  make  way  for 
the  excavations.  The  houses  are  small,  with  walled 
gardens,  but  the  Greeks  live  mostly  out  of  doors, 
and  the  cooking  is  done  in  huge  stone  ovens  in  the 
garden.  Under  a  grapevine  we  saw  a  woman  run- 
ning a  sewing  machine,  —  the  scene  itself  a  little  patch 
of  new  life  set  into  the  old  garment. 

The  mountains  around  Athens  always  present  their 
challenge  to  a  walker.  I  was  not  satisfied  till  I  had 
scaled  Hymettus  and  got  the  commanding  view  of  the 
sea  from  the  top.  It  is  a  rough  climb,  and  the  ridge 
is  not  so  near  as  it  seems  to  be  in  the  clear  air  of 
Attica.  The  unobstructed  view  gives  a  good  idea 
of  the  topography  of  Athens,  lying  on  the  plain  be- 
tween Lycabettus  and  the  Acropolis.  Far  in  the 
distance  rise  the  snow-capped  peaks  of  Parnes.  I 
found  upon  Hymettus  no  bees  and  no  honey,  though 
I  am  told  they  are  there,  but  the  old  ruined  monas- 
tery of  Kaesariani  had  a  picturesque  interest,  and 
near  it  was  a  shepherd's  hut  in  which  mother  and 
daughter  were  spinning  wool  on  a  bobbin,  holding 
one  end  on  the  ground  and  whirling  it  rapidly.  The 
scene  was  as  archaic  as  the  woman  at  Eleusis  with 
her  sewing  machine  was  modern. 


254         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

To  know  the  mountain  which  looks  on  Marathon, 
and  to  see  Marathon  looking  on  the  sea,  one  must 
climb  Pentelicus.  It  is  an  easy  ascent.  The  old  and 
the  new  meet  together  in  the  marble  quarries  on  the 
mountainside.  From  these  same  quarries  were  hewn 
the  snowy  blocks,  the  curved  and  channelled  drums 
which  formed  the  exquisite  temples  on  the  Acropolis. 
Though  the  quarries  have  been  worked  for  centuries, 
the  scar  is  small  in  the  mountain  side.  The  mon- 
astery, as  I  have  before  said,  is  perhaps  the  richest  in 
Greece.  The  lady  who  was  with  me,  being  an  or- 
dained minister  of  the  Unitarian  Church,  was  an  object 
of  much  curiosity  to  the  monks,  who  were  surprised 
enough  to  learn  that  a  woman  priest  in  America 
might  marry  after  her  ordination. 

The  deep  grotto  not  far  from  the  old  quarries  was 
doubtless  an  older  shrine  than  the  convent.  From 
the  summit  in  the  soft  languid  air  and  in  a  brilliant 
sun  one  may  look  on  Marathon  and  the  sea  together. 
To  the  east  lies  the  island  of  Euboea,  and  sleeping 
in  the  blue  calm  are  Andros  and  Tenos ;  to  the  south 
the  islands  of  Makronisi  and  Keos  nestle  under  Attic 
shores;  to  the  southwest  is  Athens  and  the  Attic 
plain.  Just  below  lies  the  bay  of  Marathon,  and 
near  it  is  the  memorial  mound  to  the  heroic  dead, 
which  for  centuries  has  been  a  shrine  of  Greek  patri- 
otism. It  was  here  that  Greece  stayed  the  might 
of  Persia ;  it  was  here  that  a  battle  was  fought  for 
Greek  independence  in  1824;  and  the  Greeks  counted 
it  a  third  national  victory  when  one  of  their  country- 
men in  the  race  from  Marathon  to  Athens  in  1896 
beat  the  athletes  of  the  world  and  raised  the  national 
flag  to  the  top  of  the  staff. 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  255 

It  is  an  easy  walk  from  Athens  to  Colonus,  the 
home  of  Sophocles,  and  to  the  Academy  of  Plato. 
You  will  not  find  the  twelve  olives  nor  the 

"  Deep-flushed  ivy  and  the  dear. 
Divine,  impenetrable  shade," 

but  somehow  the  place  has  a  different  atmosphere 
for  you,  because  you  know  that  the  poet  and  the 
philosopher  have  been  there. 

Piraeus  to  most  travellers  is  associated  with  clam- 
orous boatmen,  inquisitive  custom-house  officers 
and  exacting  coachmen.  It  is  still  the  seaport  of 
Athens,  but  dislikes  to  be  regarded  simply  as  an 
appendage  to  that  city,  and  the  rivalry  occasionally 
breaks  out  in  local  fetes.  Piraeus  has  its  own  car- 
nival and  tries  to  outdo  that  of  Athens.  For  many 
centuries  this  old  harbor  has  been  a  scene  of  bustling 
activity,  and  the  bustle  still  goes  on.  The  archaeol- 
ogist finds  diversion  in  the  remains  of  the  long  wall 
built  by  Themistocles  and  Conon,  and  in  the  theatre 
excavated  by  the  Greek  Archaeological  Society.  In- 
teresting too  are  the  old  shiphouses  or  dry  docks 
with  ways  built  down  to  the  water. 

My  visit  to  Oropus  was  made  by  water,  on  an 
**  Island  trip  "  with  Dr.  Dorpfeld.  We  landed  on  a 
long,  beautiful  beach  and  set  out  for  the  oracle  of 
Amphiaraus,  one  of  "  The  Seven  against  Thebes," 
whom  Pausanias  says  the  people  of  Oropus  first  hon- 
ored as  a  god.  After  a  walk  of  about  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  up  a  beautiful  slope  and  across  fertile 
fields,  we  struck  the  course  of  a  brook  shaded  by 
trees,  and  along  its  banks  made  our  way  to  the  holy 


256         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

ground.  Again  I  was  struck  with  the  sensitiveness 
of  the  early  Greeks  to  scenes  of  natural  beauty.  It 
was  certainly  by  no  accident  that  sites  made  charm- 
ing by  commanding  views,  flowery  fields,  singing 
brooks,  and  shady  groves  should  be  chosen  for  the 
sacred  ground  on  which  their  temples  were  reared. 
This  love  of  nature  may  be  less  reflected  in  early 
Greek  literature  than  it  is  in  modern  times,  but  one 
who  has  seen  the  places  where  their  temples  stood 
cannot  doubt  that  it  existed. 

Much  of  the  southern  part  of  Attica  is  devoid 
of  trees;  but  at  Oropus  the  tree-lover  may  delight 
in  wooded  hills  of  fir  and  olive,  among  which  the 
nightingales  sing  as  beautifully  as  they  sang  cen- 
turies ago.  How  fresh  the  grass,  how  balmy  the 
spring  air ! 

Pausanias,  who,  though  occasionally  sceptical,  faith- 
fully retailed  the  popular  superstitions,  tells  us  that, 
when  Amphiaraus  fled  from  Thebes,  the  earth  opened 
and  swallowed  him  up ;  and  he  mentions  a  number 
of  men  who  had  honors  paid  to  them  as  gods. 
Amphiaraus  had  a  temple  here,  a  statue  in  white 
stone,  and  an  altar.  There  was  a  fountain  near  the 
temple,  and  when  any  disease  had  been  cured  by 
means  of  the  oracle,  it  was  customary  to  throw  into 
the  water  gold  or  silver  coin.  The  beautiful  brook, 
and  a  clear  spring  which  flowed  into  it,  easily  sug- 
gest the  site  of  the  old  fountain.  The  temple,  exca- 
vated by  the  Greek  Archaeological  Society,  was  a 
small  building;  there  are  traces  of  the  columns,  and 
in  the  middle  we  can  see  where  the  cult-statue  stood. 
Innumerable  statues  once  crowded  the  holy  precincts, 
and  rows  of  seats  from  which  they  could  be  seen; 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  257 

but  nothing  but  the  bases  of  these  statues  remain. 
A.  long  colonnade  furnished  a  sheltered  walk  for 
those  who  came  to  this  sanitarium,  and  there  are 
traces  of  rooms  which  Dr.  Dorpfeld  regards  as  bath- 
rooms—  one  for  women  and  one  for  men  —  men- 
tioned in  an  inscription.  Back  of  this  colonnade 
are  the  remains  of  a  charming  little  Greek  theatre. 
Only  a  few  seats  of  the  auditorium  are  preserved ; 
but  the  columns  which  made  up  the  proscenium  are 
standing,  except  their  capitals.  The  architrave  for 
the  columns  has  been  found,  so  that  the  height  of 
the  structure  can  well  be  determined.  An  inscrip- 
tion contains  the  word  proskene.  Behind  these  col- 
umns can  be  seen  the  slots  to  receive  the  bolts  or 
bars  by  which  pictures  were  fastened  in  between 
them,  except  in  the  middle  of  the  row,  where  the 
space  was  used  as  a  doorway  for  the  actors.  This 
building  is  of  much  importance  in  supporting  Dorp- 
feld's  theory  of  theatre  construction,  involving  the 
view  that  the  actors  played  in  the  orchestra  and  not 
on  an  elevated  stage. 

My  approach  to  Rhamnus  was  also  from  the  sea. 
The  old  city  wall  may  be  followed  up  the  hill,  and 
passing  through  an  ancient  gateway  one  sees  the 
terrace  walls  within.  The  lower  circle  of  seats  of  a 
primitive  theatre  are  still  preserved,  and  bear  the 
names  of  the  ancient  holders.  Sections  of  old  walls 
made  of  small  stones  without  mortar  seem  to  be  the 
remains  of  dwelling-houses.  But  the  most  interest- 
ing remains  at  Rhamnus  are  the  ruins  of  its  two 
temples.  They  stand  side  by  side  on  a  great  terrace, 
and  we  can  trace  the  wall  which  bounded  the  sacred 

17 


258         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

precinct.  Both  are  temples  of  Nemesis,  —  one  the 
old,  the  other  the  new.  We  see  here,  as  on  the 
Acropolis  at  Athens  and  in  the  Peloponnesus,  that 
the  new  temple  was  built  by  the  side  of  the  old  one, 
which  perhaps  goes  back  to  the  sixth  century  before 
Christ.  At  Athens  we  have  only  the  ground  plan  of 
the  old  structure  left ;  but  here  the  walls  stand  four 
feet  high,  —  higher,  indeed,  than  the  ruins  of  the 
newer  and  larger  temple  which  was  placed  beside  it. 
The  old  temple  was  built  of  limestone  and  had  but 
two  steps,  as  in  the  old  temple  of  Athene  at  Athens. 
The  noble  statue  of  Themis,  which  is  one  of  the  most 
admired  figures  in  the  museum  at  Athens,  was  found 
here.  The  goddess  standing  erect  is  the  imperson- 
ation of  justice,  dignity  and  power.  There  is  no  trace 
of  "  the  iEginetan  smile,"  with  which  so  many  of  the 
early  figures  were  enlivened.  This  work  belongs  to 
a  later  period  of  art,  Mr.  Kabbadias  assigning  it  to 
the  third  century  before  Christy  the  beginning  of  the 
Alexandrian  epoch.  We  are  not  left,  as  in  so  many 
cases,  to  conjecture  the  name  of  the  goddess  and  of 
the  artist  who  wrought  it.  The  base  was  found  with 
the  statue  itself,  and  bears  the  name  of  Themis,  to 
whom  it  was  dedicated,  and  of  Chaerestratos,  who 
made  it.  In  the  old  times  an  artist's  fame  was  made 
with  a  chisel;  to-day  it  is  remade  with  a  spade. 
Eight  years  ago  we  knew  nothing  about  Chaere- 
stratos ;  to-day  the  spade  has  unearthed  a  work  from 
his  hand  whose  strength,  elegance  and  beauty  place 
him  indisputably  among  the  great  artists  of  the  past. 
Next  to  seeing  the  statue  is  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
the  place  where  it  stood  in  the  old  temple. 

The  new  temple  was  built  of  white  marble  —  whiter 


THE   SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  259 

than  Pentelic  —  from  the  very  hills  on  which  it  was 
reared,  so  that  it  must  have  seemed,  as  does  the 
temple  of  Bassae  in  the  Peloponnesus,  to  grow  right 
out  of  the  landscape.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  it  was 
never  completed.  Only  the  fluting  of  the  upper  and 
lower  drums  of  the  columns  had  been  cut  in,  the  rest 
being  left,  as  was  customary,  to  be  worked  off  from 
these  guide-marks  when  the  columns  were  set  up. 
The  same  incomplete  tooling  is  seen  on  the  surface  of 
the  steps. 

The  old  temple  and  the  new  are  set  so  close  to 
each  other  that  they  are  only  a  few  inches  apart —  at 
one  end  about  eighteen  inches,  at  the  other  but  five 
or  six.  The  visitor  with  a  straight  eye  asks  why  they 
were  not  built  perfectly  parallel,  when  it  would  have 
been  so  easy  to  do  it.  The  same  divergence  in  the 
foundation  lines  is  seen  in  other  cases,  where  new 
temples  were  erected  close  beside  those  of  much  ear- 
lier date.  The  explanation  of  Penrose  is  that  this 
difference  in  orientation  comes  from  the  difference  in 
the  Greek  calendar.  Greek  temples,  as  already  shown, 
were  so  built  that  the  rising  sun  would  shine  directly 
into  the  front  door  of  the  temple  on  the  day  of  the 
year  devoted  to  the  god.  If  the  day  were  changed, 
the  position  of  the  sun  would  be  changed  also.  But, 
assuming  that  the  same  day  of  the  year  was  nom- 
inally retained  as  the  festal  day,  in  the  lapse  of  two 
or  three  centuries  the  uncorrected  Greek  calendar 
would  bring  about  sufficient  variation  between  real  and 
apparent  time  so  that  the  sun  would  not  rise  on  that 
day  in  precisely  the  same  place  on  the  apparent  hori- 
zon that  it  did  when  the  first  building  was  erected. 
The  new  building  was   adjusted,  therefore,  according 


260         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

to  the  new  position  of  the  sun,  and  stood  askew  with 
reference  to  the  old.  One  would  suppose  that  the 
practice  of  orientating  their  buildings  would  have  re- 
vealed to  the  Greeks  the  imperfection  of  the  calendar, 
but  it  may  not  have  been  easy  to  correct  it.  To 
change  the  direction  of  the  building  was  perhaps 
easier  than  to  change  the  day  of  observance. 

The  delightful  view  from  Rhamnus  across  the  chan- 
nel to  the  hills  and  mountains  of  Euboea  beyond 
is  inseparably  connected  with  the  memory  of  its 
temples.  A  brisk  breeze  blew  over  the  water,  and 
rendered  landing  and  embarkation  in  the  small  boats 
against  the  rocky  shore  somewhat  difficult.  We  were 
thankful  that  we  were  not  out  in  the  ^gean,  tossing 
among  the  islands.  We  simply  crossed  the  channel, 
and  anchored  all  night  under  the  shelter  of  Euboea. 
A  brilliant  moon  silvered  the  waters,  and  our  sleep 
was  as  sweet  as  if  Athene  herself  had  poured  out  the 
gift  of  slumber. 

There  is  a  figure  in  the  Iliad  (II.  395)  which  might 
apply  to  more  than  one  cape  or  promontory  of 
Greece,  but  which,  from  personal  experience,  I  have 
come,  with  a  certain  qualm  of  gastric  reproach,  to 
apply  to  Cape  Sunium,  the  southern  point  of  Attica. 
The  figure  is  that  of  a  lofty,  projecting  cliff,  which 
the  waves,  driven  here  and  there  by  the  winds  from 
every  quarter,  never  leave,  but  continually  roar  against 
its  rocky  side.  It  is  a  fine  description  and  pleasant 
to  read,  when  one  is  sitting  in  his  study  and  there  are 
no  earthquakes  in  the  basement.  But  to  sail  round 
Cape  Sunium  generally  takes  the  poetry  all  out  of  it 
for  me,  and  leaves  me  a  gastric  wreck,  with  the  un- 


THE   SHRINES    OF  ATTICA  261 

digested  memory  of  my  last  dinner.  I  have  sailed 
round  Sunium  seven  times,  and  five  times  out  of  seven 
have  been  treated  in  this  way.  I  do  not  wonder,  there- 
fore, that  a  temple  was  early  built  upon  this  spot  to 
propitiate  Poseidon.  The  sea  is  a  beautiful  picture ; 
it  is  a  rhythmic  poem.  I  am  fond  of  the  poem,  but 
not  of  the  swelling  rhythm.  It  is  strange  that  such 
majestic  waves  can  produce  such  contemptible  feel- 
ings ;  strange  that  aesthetics  and  physiology  should 
be  in  such  sad  contradiction.  "  Who  of  his  own  ac- 
cord," says  Hermes,  after  he  has  been  on  a  divine 
mission  to  the  island  of  Calypso,  "  would  cross  such 
interminable  stretches  of  salt  sea }  "  And  Laodamas 
says  to  Odysseus,  "  Nothing,  I  believe,  is  worse  than 
sea  life  for  taking  the  strength  out  of  a  man,  how- 
ever strong  be  he." 

Athene  afterwards  obtained  possession  of  this  prom- 
ontory, and  the  temple  whose  columns  give  to  it  the 
modern  name  of  Cape  Colonna  was  erected  for  her 
worship.  Once  as  I  rounded  it  the  sea  was  calm, 
the  sky  clear,  the  sun  brilliant.  The  Attic  peninsula 
could  not  have  had  a  nobler  termination  than  this 
lofty  headland  washed  by  the  sea  and  crowned  by  a 
majestic  temple.  Eleven  columns  only  are  standing, 
but  they  are  heroic  in  dignity  and  constancy,  as  if  they 
meant  to  hold  the  headland  to  the  last.  No  other 
temple  or  shrine.  Christian  or  pagan,  disputes  pos- 
session of  this  site. 

If  the  view  of  Sunium  from  the  sea  is  imposing,  it 
is  well  worth  while  to  go  there  by  land,  to  see  the 
ruins  of  the  temple  and  get  the  view  of  the  sea  from 
the  cliff.  The  walls  which  once  fortified  this  extreme 
headland  have  fallen  into  ruins,  and  the  goats  are  the 


262        THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

only  guardians.  After  weathering  the  gales  of  cen- 
turies these  massive  columns  are  still  intensely  white. 
What  a  glorious  site  for  a  shrine !  To  the  seaman 
who  sailed  by  it  was  an  altar  set  upon  a  rock,  while 
the  islands  and  the  sea  from  whencesoever  it  was  visi- 
ble were  all  included  in  its  sacred  precincts,  were  all 
a  part  of  the  holy  temple.  One  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful views  I  had  in  Greece  was  the  vista  through 
these  stately  columns,  with  the  sea  beyond,  the  nearer 
islands  set  in  lapis  lazuli  and  the  farther  isles  veiled 
in  mist.  The  shrine  and  the  isles  were  all  of  the 
same  poem. 

Looking  out  on  the  water  and  remembering  how 
much  of  Greece  is  island  and  peninsula,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  so  much  of  the  sea  washed  the  pages  of 
the  old  epic.  A  single  salty  word,  a  happy  epithet, 
a  rhythmic  line  often  brought  it  into  the  picture  with 
more  effect  than  a  page  of  watery  description.  This 
fs  all  that  Homer  tries  to  do ;  but  he  does  it  in  a  variety 
of  ways,  and  so  effectively  that  one  who  plunges  into 
the  Odyssey  is  soon  conscious  of  taking  a  sea-bath. 
Sometimes  he  thinks  of  its  vast  extent,  and  calls  it 
the  "  boundless  sea;"  sometimes  he  sees  it  as  a  path- 
way of  fleets,  and  calls  it  the  "  watery  way."  Then 
he  is  touched  by  its  varying  hues  or  the  clouds  that 
play  on  its  surface.  It  is  the  "  cloudstreaked,"  the 
"  murky,"  the  "  misty  sea."  Or  he  sees  its  gray  foam, 
and  calls  it  the ''hoary  sea."  In  storm  or  night, 
it  is  the  "  black  sea."  There  is  another  epithet  of 
Homer  which  first  became  real  to  me  on  the  beach 
of  our  own  Newport ;  it  is  the  "  wine-dark  sea."  He 
was  not  color  blind ;  the  waves  as  they  broke  on  the 
shore  on  that  stormy  day  were  claret  till  they  burst  in 


THE  SHRINES   OF  ATTICA  263 

foam.  Two  other  terms  show  the  fisherman's  heart 
in  the  ancient  poet.  It  is  the  "  barren,"  the  "  unhar- 
vested  sea;"  and  we  know  that  one  had  toiled  all  the 
night  and  had  caught  nothing.  But  when  he  has  come 
in  with  a  draught  so  large  that  the  net  would  scarce 
hold  it,  we  read  fisherman's  luck  in  the  "  teeming," 
"  fishy  sea." 

Laurium,  the  seat  of  one  of  the  oldest  and  most 
valuable  mining  districts  of  Greece,  is  but  a  short  dis- 
tance from  Sunium.  Externally,  this  part  of  the 
Attic  peninsula  is  barren  enough;  but  it  is  rich  be- 
neath the  surface.  Five  hundred  years  before  Christ 
these  mines  were  profitably  worked  for  their  silver, 
as  to-day  they  are  profitably  worked  for  their  lead. 
One  who  views  near  Athens  the  scarred  sides  of  Mount 
Pentelicus  may  see  little  connection  between  these 
old  mines  and  the  marble  quarry ;  but  some  of  the 
wealth  which  the  slaves  drew  from  the  mines  was 
coined  into  the  marble  grandeur  of  Propylaea  and 
Parthenon,  and  the  statues  which  bloomed  from  the 
art  of  Phidias  and  Praxiteles.  Deep  shafts  and 
radiating  galleries  are  the  silent  and  hollow  monu- 
ments of  this  early  industry;  but  not  far  away  great 
furnaces  are  blazing,  and  men  are  toiling  as  they  toiled 
of  yore.  But  slavery  has  gone,  and  we  have  one  re- 
minder, at  least,  of  the  superiority  of  modern  civil- 
ization to  that  of  the  ancient  world. 

It  was  the  remains  of  the  old  theatre  that  drew  us 
to  Thoricus.  Simple  and  primitive  in  form,  only  a 
small  part  was  visible  until  it  was  excavated  by  the 
American  School.  The  orchestra  has  not  been  com- 
pletely uncovered ;  but  it  is  seen  to  be  elliptical  in 


264         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES  OF  GREECE 

form.  The  auditorium  seats  were  built  at  different 
times.  It  is  not  easy  to  determine  with  exactness  the 
date  of  this  theatre ;  but  it  is  assigned  by  Dr.  Dorp- 
feld  to  the  fifth  century  before  Christ.  A  small 
temple  stood  near  the  theatre ;  in  fact,  the  orchestra 
lay  just  before  it.  The  theatre  at  Thoricus  pales  into 
insignificance  compared  with  the  beauty  of  Epidaurus, 
but  Hke  the  latter  it  commanded  a  charming  and  ex- 
tensive view.  The  play  might  be  stupid;  but,  sit- 
ting in  the  open  air,  in  this  delightful  climate,  with 
the  blue  sea  before  them,  the  spectators  could  enjoy 
scenery  more  real  and  more  beautiful  than  the  can- 
vas fictions  which  in  modern  times  often  impose  so 
great  a  strain  upon  the  imagination. 


IV 

THE   PELOPONNESUS 


FROM  ATHENS  TO  MEGALOPOLIS 

There  are  two  ways  of  making  excursions  in 
Greece.  One  is  to  take  your  purse  and  your  stafif 
and  go  forth  as  a  solitary  pilgrim.  You  need  then  a 
traveller's  equipment  of  modern  Greek  if  you  are  to 
step  out  of  the  beaten  track.  It  is  an  interesting  way 
of  penetrating  the  country  and  studying  the  life  and 
customs  of  the  people.  The  other  method  is  that  of 
a  "  reconnaissance  in  force."  I  do  not  mean  a  Cook 
or  Gaze  excursion,  a  sort  of  travelling  mob,  but  an 
organized  band  of  Hellenists,  each  of  whom  is  armed 
with  special  knowledge  or  animated  by  special  inter- 
est, You  may  then  have  the  advantage  of  agreeable 
companionship,  of  combined  experience,  knowledge 
and  observation. 

Our  group  of  seven,  self-styled  "the  heptarchy,'* 
who  had  captured  the  Ionian  Islands  and  descended 
upon  Athens,  had  long  since  gone  —  or  six  of  them 
—  to  Germany.  It  was  fortunate  that  after  this  de- 
sertion I  could  avail  myself  of  the  kind  invitation 
of  Dr.  Dorpfeld  to  join  his  band  of  archaeological 
pilgrims  in  a  trip  through  the  Peloponnesus. 

Using  the  democratic  Aristotelian  term  by  which  the 
modern  Greeks  describe  a  "  person  "  or  "  individual," 
I  may  say  that  this  body  was  made  up  of  twenty- 
seven  "  atoms,"  and  that  they  had  come  from  Prussia, 
Austria,  Bavaria,  the  Rhine  Provinces,  Italy,  Dal- 
matia,  Russia,  Poland,  Servia,  Denmark,  Massachu- 


268         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

setts,  Vermont,  Georgia,  and  Ohio.  The  central 
magnet  which,  added  to  the  charms  of  Greece,  drew 
these  twenty-seven  atoms  from  two  continents,  was  the 
personaHty  of  Dr.  Dorpfeld.  The  babel  of  tongues 
found  a  peaceful  resolution  in  the  German  language, 
especially  when  he  spoke  it.  Nearly  all  the  members 
of  the  party  were  classical  professors,  teachers,  stu- 
dents, or  curators  of  museums,  but  diplomacy  was 
represented  by  the  Servian  minister.  As  a  part  of 
the  journey  was  to  be  made  by  rail  and  by  carriage, 
a  few  ladies  accompanied  us  as  far  as  Mycenae.  The 
itinerary  of  the  expedition  covered  thirteen  days, 
from  March  25  to  April  6,  and  included  all  the  most 
important  points  between  Athens  and  Olympia. 

The  history  of  Greece  is  clearer  when  you  have 
studied  its  geography  and  seen  how  natural  bound- 
aries of  mountain  or  water  perpetuated  tribal  divi- 
sions and  furnished  obstacles  to  political  unity.  The 
narrow  isthmus  which  joins  Attica  and  the  Pelopon- 
nesus was  a  barrier  or  a  highway  according  to  the 
mood  in  which  the  ancients  happened  to  look  at  it. 
It  was  a  highway  for  the  landsman  and  a  barrier  for 
the  sailor.  It  permitted  an  easy  passage  of  hostile 
troops,  but  as  it  was  only  three  and  a  half  to  four 
miles  wide  it  was  not  difficult  to  throw  across  it  the 
Isthmian  wall,  which  furnished  a  military  barrier 
where  nature  had  failed  to  build  one.  On  the  other 
hand,  this  narrow  strip  of  land  was  a  provoking 
barrier  between  the  Corinthian  and  the  Saronic  gulfs ; 
and  if  this  ligament  binding  the  peninsulas  were  cut, 
the  divided  waters  would  flow  together  and  the  Pelo- 
ponnesus become  an  island.  So  the  Greeks  tried  first 
to  put  up  a  wall  of  separation  between  the  rival  lands. 


THE   PELOPONNESUS  269 

and  then  to  cut  a  canal  to  join  the  friendly  waters. 
One  of  these  projects  was  a  measure  of  war,  the  other 
a  measure  of  peace  and  commerce.  The  political 
union  of  Greece  made  the  wall  unnecessary;  the 
developrnent  of  its  commerce  and  that  of  the  world 
made  the  canal  more  desirable  than  ever. 

As  we  crossed  the  Isthmus  the  train  stopped  first 
to  let  us  see  the  remains  of  the  old  wall,  and  after- 
wards  that  we  might  see  the  new  canal,  then  within 
a  few  weeks  of  completion.  The  wall,  dating  from 
remote  times  and  subject  to  many  restorations,  here 
and  there  shows  its  sullen  teeth.  The  canal  from 
the  fine  bridge  which  the  railroad  has  thrown  across 
may  be  seen  up  and  down  its  whole  length,  and  fur- 
nishes an  interesting  illustration  of  how  the  past  and 
the  present  are  joined  in  Greece.  More  than  seven- 
teen centuries  ago,  when  Pausanias  crossed  this  isth- 
mus, he  saw  the  marks  of  the  first  attempt  to  cut  a 
canal.  ''Whoever  attempted"  he  said,  "to  make 
the  Peloponnesus  an  island  died  before  the  completion 
of  a  canal  across  the  isthmus.  The  place  where  they 
began  to  dig  is  clearly  seen,  but  they  did  not  make 
much  progress  on  account  of  the  rock,  and  the 
Peloponnesus  remains  what  it  was  by  nature,  —  a 
peninsula." 

Periander,  the  tyrant  of  Corinth,  who  lived  about 
six  hundred  years  before  Christ,  is  credited  with  first 
projecting  a  canal  across  the  isthmus.  In  Roman 
times  the  attempt  was  made  by  the  Emperor  Nero, 
but  abandoned  probably  on  account  of  more  warlike 
undertakings.  Herodes  Atticus  continued  the  work 
which  Nero  began.  The  canal  thus  made  was  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  width,  about  one  hundred 


2/0         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

and  twenty  in  depth,  and  three  thousand  feet  long. 
For  more  than  seventeen  hundred  years  after  the 
death  of  Herodes  Atticus  nothing  more  was  done 
to  fulfil  the  dream  of  the  Corinthian  tyrant.  Then 
Greek  and  European  capitalists  organized  to  make  it 
real.  When  the  engineers  made  a  new  survey  they 
found  no  better  place  on  the  isthmus  for  the  canal 
than  that  chosen  by  Nero's  engineers.  It  saved  much 
labor  to  clear  out  and  utilize  the  old  cut.  Pausanias 
was  wrong  about  the  hardness  of  the  rock ;  it  was 
soft  and  gave  no  trouble.  It  was  the  sand  at  both 
ends  letting  in  water  that  made  work.  Two  thousand 
men  and  three  immense  excavators  cut  and  moved 
11,500,000  cubic  metres  of  earth  and  rock.  The 
canal  is  nearly  four  miles  long.  About  three  months 
after  our  visit  the  water  was  let  in,  and  commercially, 
at  least,  the  Peloponnesus  was  turned  into  an  island. 
But  what  if  the  heirs  of  Nero  and  Nero's  engineers 
should  send  in  a  bill  for  making  the  first  cut  and 
claim  a  share  in  the  dividends? 

The  Greek  canal-cutters  are  not  the  only  modern 
engineers  who  have  availed  themselves  of  the  labors 
of  ancient  builders.  Why  should  any  one  cut  a  stone 
from  a  quarry  when  he  can  find  one  already  cut  in 
some  old  ruin?  It  is  partly  owing  to  this  labor- 
saving  philosophy  that  the  only  foundation  stones 
left  of  the  hoary  old  temple  at  Corinth  are  those 
which  stand  under  its  seven  Doric  columns.  These 
tall  monoliths  could  not  be  overturned  except  by 
machines.  The  stones  beneath  them  thus  furnish 
some  hint  of  the  plan  of  this  ancient  building,  the  sole 
monument  of  the  glory  of  the  ancient  city,  and  next  to 
the  temple  of  Hera  at  Olympia,  the  oldest  example 


THE   PELOPONNESUS  2/1 

of  the  Doric  style  in  Greece.  We  have  no  means  of 
telhng  for  how  many  centuries  the  sturdy  cohimns 
have  stood  on  the  plain.  They  were  cut  in  one 
piece  from  the  limestone  rocks  not  far  away  and 
covered  with  a  yellowish  stucco.  Even  this  covering 
gives  us  a  hint  of  restoration  ;  the  thick  Roman 
stucco  is  easily  distinguished  from  the  thin  layer  used 
by  the  Greeks. 

The  traveller  should  go  to  Corinth  with  a  copy  of 
Pausanias  in  one  pocket  and  the  New  Testament  in 
the  other.  In  these  literary  memorials  he  will  find 
more  to  remind  him  of  the  brilliant,  luxurious  city 
than  anything  he  sees  on  the  plains.  The  description 
of  Pausanias  is  minute,  and  encourages  us  to  hope  for 
good  results  from  the  excavations  undertaken  at 
Corinth  by  the  American  school. 

The  same  friend  who  before  my  departure  for 
Greece  had  said,  **  Do  not  spend  any  time  at  Corfu," 
had  likewise  said,  "  Do  not  trouble  yourself  to  go  up 
Acro-Corinth."  I  should  invert  his  advice  and  would 
say,  *^  Do  not  fail  to  climb  Acro-Corinth.  If  you  do, 
you  will  miss  one  of  the  grandest  views  in  all  Greece." 
Dispensing  with  a  mule,  I  climbed  the  mountain  and 
succeeded  in  getting  within  the  eye  of  my  camera  an 
exact  picture  of  the  isthmus  with  the  water  lapping  it 
on  each  side.  The  Corinthian  Gulf,  like  a  great 
inland  lake,  is  spread  out  on  one  side,  with  the 
mountains  of  Boeotia  and  Phocis  rising  in  a  wall  be- 
hind it,  and,  most  imposing  among  them,  snow-peaked 
Parnassus.  To  the  east  ^gina  and  Salamis  are  sleep- 
ing in  the  calm  waters  of  the  Saronic  Gulf  with  their 
island  satellites  round  them ;  to  the  south  the  moun- 
tains of  Argolis  ;  and  to  the  west  those  of  Arcadia  frame 


2/2         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

in  the  view.  On  days  exceptionally  clear,  from  Upper 
Corinth  one  may  see  Upper  Athens  forty-five  miles 
away.  The  white  houses  of  the  new  Corinth  are  set 
on  the  plain  below,  amid  fields  of  red  and  green  and 
dark  olive  groves.  Many  a  fierce  conflict,  Greek 
with  Greek,  Greek  with  Roman,  Turk  or  Venetian, 
has  been  fought  on  this  citadel.  As  on  the  Acropolis 
of  Athens,  the  debris  of  centuries  is  here  beneath  our 
feet. 

Did  Paul  come  up  here?  There  is  nothing  in  his 
letters  to  show  it.  But  that  he  saw  the  temples  and 
the  idols,  and  that  he  had  to  deal  with  practical  ques- 
tions, such  as  eating  meat  offered  in  sacrifice  to  idols, 
his  epistles  plainly  show.  If  the  apostle  could  find  here 
to-day  little  to  recall  the  ancient  pagan  worship  but 
the  seven  columns  on  the  plain,  he  would  find  in  the 
modern  town  but  little  to  remind  him  of  the  church 
he  planted.  It  is  not  likely  when  he  wrote  these  two 
letters  to  the  Corinthians  that  he  thought  they  would 
be  known  in  all  Christendom,  or  that  the  thirteenth 
chapter  of  the  first  letter  might  well  compare  in 
elevation  of  sentiment  and  beauty  of  diction  with  any- 
thing in  the  range  of  literature. 

Leaving  Corinth  we  took  the  train  to  Nauplia  and 
spent  the  night.  The  next  morning  we  rose  at  five 
o'clock,  and  in  six  carriages  drove  from  Nauplia  to 
Epidaurus,  renowned  in  ancient  days  as  the  sanctuary 
of  ^sculapius,  and  containing  a  temple,  sanitarium 
and  other  buildings.  As  a  centre  of  miracle  or  faith 
healing,  the  place  has  a  special  interest.  But  our 
curiosity  had  been  stimulated  most  of  all  to  see  the 
theatre,  partly  by  its  importance  in  modern  discussion 
and  partly  from  the  enthusiasm  of  Pausanias  in  regard 


THE   PELOPONNESUS  2^3 

to  it.  "  The  Epidaurians,"  he  said,  "  have  a  theatre 
in  their  sacred  precinct  which  is  especially  well  worth 
seeing.  The  Roman  theatres  excel  all  others  in 
their  embellishment;  and  the  theatre  of  the  Arcadians 
at  Megalopolis  is  distinguished  for  its  size,  —  but  for 
beauty  and  proportion  what  architect  could  compete 
with  Polycleitus?  "  Pausanias  was  right.  The  theatre 
at  Epidaurus  is  a  gem.  Fortunately  it  is  one  of  the 
best  preserved  theatres  that  has  yet  been  excavated. 
It  was  here  that  the  complete  orchestral  circle  was 
first  found  distinctly  marked  off  by  a  stone  border. 
While  room  for  the  orchestral  circle  between  the 
auditorium  and  the  proskenion  was  always  left  in 
other  theatres,  the  actual  circle  was  not  always  de- 
scribed. The  earth  within  the  circumference  was  left 
unfloored,  recalling  the  Greek  name  konistray  the 
sandy  space,  the  Latin  arena. 

In  the  chapter  on  the  Greek  theatre,  the  reader 
has  already  seen  a  reproduction  of  a  photograph 
which  I  took  from  the  auditorium  showing  it  exactly 
as  a  spectator  would  see  it.  It  is  evident  from  this 
picture  that  no  stage  was  needed  where  the  actors 
(represented  by  a  few  German  students)  could  be  so 
plainly  seen.  Measurements  showed  that  this  theatre, 
small  though  it  was  compared  with  the  one  at 
Megalopolis,  held  fifteen  thousand  people.  Dr. 
Dorpfeld's  lecture  was  an  interesting  resume  of  the 
development  of  the  Greek  theatre.  He  has  perhaps 
forgotten  an  unconscious  but  appropriate  tribute  he 
paid  to  Dionysus  on  this  occasion.  One  of  our 
attendants  had  left  the  basket  of  wine  standing  on  the 
lowest  seat  of  the  auditorium  where  the  sun  was  pour- 
ing down  upon  it.     In  the  midst  of  his  lecture  the 

i8 


274         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

professor  stopped  and  directed  the  archaeological 
butler  to  put  the  wine  in  a  cool  place.  Shades  of 
Dionysus,  why  did  you  not  gratefully  cast  the 
shadow? 

From  the  auditorium  the  spectator  has  a  fine  view 
of  the  plain,  and  of  Mount  Arachnaeon  (nearly  four 
thousand  feet  high)  beyond,  the  black  lines  on  its  side, 
as  the  name  suggests,  looking  like  spider's  webs. 
Columns  and  broken  architraves  and  the  remains  of 
the  foundation  give  some  idea  of  the  beautiful  Tholos^ 
a  circular  building  107  feet  in  diameter,  also  attrib- 
uted to  Polycleitus.  A  peculiar  structure  is  a  sort  of 
labyrinth ;  and  the  purpose  of  another  large  building, 
approached  by  inclined  planes,  a  frequent  feature  in 
the  Peloponnesus,  is  unknown.  Would  Polycleitus 
have  laughed  or  cried  at  the  degeneracy  of  his  coun- 
trymen if  he  had  known  that  a  kiln  had  been  estab- 
lished in  the  midst  of  this  sanctuary  to  make  lime 
from  these  exquisite  marbles?  If  that  is  chargeable 
to  rustic  ignorance  and  cupidity,  we  must  give  the 
Greek  Archaeological  Society,  which  excavated  this 
sanctuary  and  theatre,  the  credit  of  a  nobler  embod- 
iment of  the  modern  spirit. 

The  next  day,  when  we  passed  through  the  Lion 
Gate  at  Mycenae,  we  entered  the  portals  of  another 
age.  Once  more  we  seemed  to  be  on  Homeric  ground. 
At  Corfu  and  Ithaca  we  had  only  the  literary  tradi- 
tion; here  and  at  Tiryns  we  seemed  to  be  in  the 
presence  of  visible  memorials  of  the  remote  age  in 
which  the  Homeric  poems  found  their  material.  If 
we  sometimes  envy  Pausanias  the  opportunity  he 
had  in  the  second  century  of  seeing  many  Greek 
temples  and  monuments  in  their  pristine  beauty,  the 


THE   PELOPONNESUS  275 

old  traveller  might  envy  us  the  opportunity  we  have 
had  at  Mycenae.  The  few  paragraphs  which  he  de- 
voted to  these  hoary  monuments,  containing  about  all 
the  world  knew,  contrast  strongly  with  the  volumes 
which  describe  the  results  of  modern  excavation. 
Pausanias  stood  above  ground,  but  Schliemann  went 
beneath.  He  showed  us  the  advantage  of  deep  dig- 
ging;  he  unbuilt  better  than  he  knew. 

Curious  are  the  conjunctions  and  the  oppositions 
of  history  which  present  themselves  at  Mycenae. 
Here  is  a  form  of  architecture  entirely  different  from 
that  which  we  are  accustomed  to  call  Greek.  There 
is  no  presage  of  the  age  of  Pericles,  but  a  curious 
suggestion  of  the  Byzantine  age  which  much  later  was 
to  follow  it.  Those  great  beehive  tombs  seem  in  their 
ascending  domes  to  be  a  prediction  of  St.  Sophia  and 
St.  Peter.  Yet  structurally  they  affirm  unrelenting 
opposition  to  the  architecture  they  seem  to  predict. 
When  we  examine  them  we  find  that  they  are  not 
arches,  and  are  not  built  on  vertical  lines,  but  consist 
of  horizontal  circular  courses  of  stone,  each  course 
projecting  over  that  below  it  until  they  come  together 
and  are  covered  by  a  stone  at  the  top.  The  tomb 
builders  did  not  have  the  arch,  but  they  were  feeling 
after  it,  and  it  is  remarkable  by  what  simple  means 
they  reached  the  effect  they  sought. 

But  what  were  these  walled  avenues  leading  to  the 
tomb?  Were  they  filled  up  with  earth  when  they  were 
built  or  in  some  later  age?  Some  of  them  are  lined 
with  immense  stones  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  feet 
in  length,  as  if  the  builders  exulted  in  feats  of  Cyclo- 
pean force.  These  blocks  are  at  least  three  thousand 
years  old,  and  nobody  knows  how  much  older,  but  the 


2/6         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

marks  of  the  workman's  saw  are  still  upon  them,  show- 
ing how  old  was  the  use  of  this  instrument  in  cutting 
stone  as  well  as  wood.  In  opposition  to  the  Doric 
column  which  tapers  toward  the  top,  the  columns  of 
the  door  to  the  tomb  excavated  by  Mrs.  Schliemann  are 
curiously  enough  much  thicker  at  the  top  than  at  the 
bottom.  In  the  Parthenon  and  on  the  Propylaea  at 
Athens  we  have  noticed  reminiscences  of  the  wooden 
structure.  It  has  been  suggested  that  these  top-heavy 
columns  may  also  be  a  survival  of  the  wooden  struc- 
ture, recalling  the  stake  or  post  sharpened  and  driven 
into  the  ground. 

The  wall  which  surrounded  the  Acropolis  at  My- 
cenae is  largely  intact.  The  remains  of  a  Greek 
temple  prove  how  old  was  the  civilization  beneath 
it.  This  Greek  temple  may  be  dated  about  six 
hundred  years  before  Christ,  yet  underneath  the 
temple  were  huts  of  earlier  dwellers,  and  underneath 
these  was  the  ground  plan  of  an  ancient  palace.  But 
we  must  go  to  Troy  to  see  how  antiquity  can  be  piled 
on  antiquity.  Deeply  significant  and  interesting  is 
the  fact  pointed  out  by  Dr.  Dorpfeld  that  the  plan 
of  the  Greek  temple  was  taken  from  that  of  the  me- 
garon  or  palace;  the  house  of  man  thus  prefigured 
the  House  of  God.  We  took  lunch  under  the  Lion 
Gate.  I  was  somewhat  disappointed  in  the  size  of 
the  headless  beasts.  They  would  have  been  more 
imposing,  I  have  no  doubt,  if  their  leonine  heads 
had  been  left  on. 

We  must  beware  in  these  ruins  of  carrying  too  far 
relationships  which  may  be  coincident,  not  genetic; 
but  details  of  resemblance  In  structure  are  often 
stronger  proofs  of   historic   couslnship  than    super- 


THE  PELOPONNESUS  277 

ficial  aspects  and  resemblances.  The  resemblance  to 
the  Byzantine  cupola  is  only  external.  Structurally 
and  technically  there  was  no  historic  relation  between 
them.  At  Mycenae  and  Tiryns,  however,  there  is  one 
detail  of  structure  which  shows  a  distinct  relationship 
to  Solomon's  Temple.  We  read  in  i  Kings  vi.  36  that 
the  inner  court  was  built  with  three  rows  of  hewn 
stone  and  a  row  of  cedar  beams ;  that  is,  placed  lon- 
gitudinally on  the  stone.  The  accuracy  of  this  state- 
ment was  doubted,  but  at  Mycenae  we  find  walls  built 
in  the  same  way,  courses  of  wooden  beams  between 
those  of  stone.  Fierce  fires  at  Mycenae  consumed  the 
wood  and  reduced  to  lime  the  stone  that  lay  near  it, 
and  here  and  there  pieces  of  charcoal  in  the  ruins 
showed  the  wood  itself.  Dr.  Dorpfeld  has  further 
remarked  the  general  resemblance  between  the  plan 
and  proportion  of  Solomon's  Temple  with  the  plans 
of  buildings  at  Mycenae.  When  we  remember  that 
Hiram,  king  of  Tyre,  was  summoned  by  Solomon  to 
build  his  temple,  we  ask  ourselves  whether  Phoenicia 
may  not  have  furnished  the  bond  of  union  in  this 
interesting  resemblance. 

I  cannot  even  enumerate  the  many  questions  which 
throng  upon  the  visitor  at  Mycenae  and  Tiryns;  for 
their  adequate  treatment,  as  well  as  for  the  manifold 
aspects  of  Mycenaean  civilization,  I  refer  the  reader  to 
the  elaborate  and  fascinating  treatise  of  Dr.  Manatt.  -^ 

While  the  Acropolis  of  Mycenae  has  been  cut  off 
by  the  action  of  the  water  from  the  surrounding  hills 
Tiryns  stands  up  like  a  small  rocky  island  in  the 
midst  of  a  great  plain.     Dark  cypresses  contrast  with 

1  The  Mycenaean  Age.    By  Chrestos  Tsountas  and  J.  Irving  Manatt, 

Boston,  1897. 


2/8         THE   ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

the  long  fresh  green  levels,  and  Nauplia  rises  behind. 
In  the  ancient  galleries  built  of  enormous  stone  we 
have  the  same  architecture  as  in  the  Mycenae  tombs. 
As  shepherds  have  lived  in  the  so-called  tomb  of 
Agamemnon,  so  the  sheep  have  found  shelter  in 
these  galleries,  and  in  passing  through  them  have 
polished  the  hard  stones  against  which  they  brushed 
till  they  are  as  smooth  as  glass.  It  was  no  slight 
puzzle  at  first  to  know  why  the  ancient  builders  had 
so  beautifully  polished  the  lower  courses  of  stone  and 
left  those  above  in  the  rough.  But  as  the  ram  of 
Odysseus  played  a  part  in  the  cave  of  old  Polyphe- 
mus, so  his  fellow-creatures  have  played  their  part 
in  these  Cyclopean  galleries.  The  mice  too,  with 
the  zeal  of  modern  excavators,  have  brought  out  the 
earth  which  once  lay  between  the  horizontal  layers 
of  stone.  Beyond  this  the  great  galleries  have  suf- 
fered little  disturbance  in  the  course  of  centuries. 
Emerging  from  them  we  had  a  beautiful  vista  of 
the  plains  below  and  the  mountains  beyond.  As 
he  went  from  stone  to  stone  and  explained  the 
whole  plan  of  the  fortress,  its  towers  and  corridors, 
courts,  propylaea,  its  palaces  with  their  halls  for 
men  and  for  women,  and  its  cistern  and  cellars, 
which  furnished  material  for  so  many  Homeric  pic- 
tures. Dr.  Dorpfeld  seemed  more  enthusiastic  than 
usual,  especially  when  he  spoke  of  the  discovery 
made  by  Dr.  Schliemann  and  himself  of  the  re- 
markable kyanos  frieze.  These  beautiful  decorations 
showed  us  that  Homer's  description  of  the  palace  of 
Alcinoiis  was  more  fact  than  fancy.  As  you  see  the 
marks  the  great  doors  left  on  the  pavement  when  they 
turned,  you  can  imagine  their  Homeric  creak  and  you 


THE  PELOPONNESUS  279 

may  hear  the  thunderous  clatter  of  hoofs  and  wheels 
resounding  from  the  pavement  as  in  the  great  Epic. 

How  were  these  buildings  roofed?  While  there 
are  those  who  contend  for  an  inclined  roof,  Dr.  Dorp- 
feld  believes  that  they  were  flat,  and  covered  with 
earth  supported  by  heavy  timbers,  which,  as  has  been 
intimated  in  a  previous  chapter,  may  account  for  the 
heavy  style  of  Doric  architecture  if  derived  from  the 
wooden  structure.  No  trace  of  a  tile  has  been  found 
at  Tiryns. 

Our  visit  to  Argos  was  short;  we  had  only  time 
for  a  casual  view  of  the  theatre  and  a  rapid  ascent 
of  the  acropolis  Larisa.  I  stepped  for  a  few  minutes 
into  a  school  in  the  town  and  heard  boys  recite  from 
Xenophon,  which  they  did  with  considerable  ease. 
At  the  Heraeon,  the  great  sanctuary  of  Argolis,  the 
students  of  the  American  Archaeological  School  who 
had  worked  with  great  industry  were  exulting  over 
the  new  treasures  they  had  found. 

At  Mantinea  we  were  on  another  battlefield,  but 
it  was  a  field  of  civil  war,  and  had  less  interest 
for  me  than  Marathon  when  Greece  was  facing  the 
hosts  of  Persia.  A  few  traces  of  the  theatre  are  left. 
The  clouds  nestled  down  on  the  sides  of  the  distant 
mountains  and  the  sun  shone  on  the  snow-white  peaks 
so  much  whiter  than  the  muffling  clouds  below. 

We  had  spent  the  first  two  nights  of  our  trip 
at  Nauplia,  from  which  excursions  are  conveniently 
made  to  Mycenae,  the  Heraeon,  and  Tiryns  and 
Argos.  Two  nights  were  spent  at  Tripolis,  from 
which  we  drove  to  Mantinea,  Tegea,  and  back.  Leav- 
ing Tripolis,  by  carriage  we  had  a  beautiful  drive  over 
the  hills  to  Megalopolis,  the  iris  blooming  brilliantly 


28o         THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

by  the  way.  We  stopped  at  a  khan  and  had  a  lunch 
of  black  bread  and  cheese.  When  Nicholas,  my  driver, 
told  me  he  did  not  smoke  I  took  his  photograph  at 
once.  He  could  say  his  Lord's  Prayer  and  believed 
in  baptism,  but  when  I  asked  him  what  would  be- 
come of  the  unbaptized  Turks  he  shook  his  head 
and  said,  Aev  i^evpco,  "  I  don't  know." 

Our  hiterest  in  Megalopolis  was  whetted  by  a 
controversy  concerning  the  stage  in  the  Greek  theatre. 
The  excavation  of  that  great  theatre  is  due  to  the 
energy  and  skill  of  the  British  Archaeological  School, 
then  under  the  charge  of  Mr.  Ernest  Gardner.  The 
British  School  had  clung  to  the  statement  of  Vitruvius 
that  a  stage  ten  or  twelve  feet  high  and  eight  feet 
broad  was  used  in  the  Greek  theatre.  The  excava- 
tion of  the  orchestra  at  Megalopolis  a  few  years  ago 
was  watched  with  the  greatest  interest  to  see  if  any 
stage  could  be  found  intact.  In  the  course  of  their 
digging  the  English  came  upon  five  steps  on  the 
side  of  the  orchestra  opposite  the  auditorium,  where 
a  stage,  if  any  existed,  would  naturally  be  found. 
The  stone  steps  led  up  to  what  was  apparently  a 
platform.  The  full  width  of  the  platform  was  not 
excavated,  but  it  was  evidently  at  least  eight  feet 
in  breadth.  Nothing  was  more  natural  than  that 
Director  Gardner  and  his  associates  should  con- 
clude they  had  found  a  stage.  The  news  was  re- 
ceived with  the  greatest  interest  by  archaeologists  all 
over  the  world.  At  last  it  seemed  as  if  Dr.  Dorp- 
feld's  radical  theory  had  been  effectively  refuted, 
and  the  accuracy  of  the  Roman  architect  vindicated. 
When  the  plans  of  the  excavations  were  shown  to  Dr. 
Dorpfeld  he  examined  them  closely  and  said :  "  Gen- 


THE  PELOPONNESUS  28 1 

tlenien,  if  you  examine  carefully  this  platform  which 
you  think  is  a  stage,  you  will  find,  I  think,  the  marks 
where  columns  have  stood.  What  you  think  is  a 
stage  I  take  to  be  a  stylobate."  When  the  English 
resumed  their  work  at  MegalopoHs  the  following 
year,  the  so-called  stage  was  examined.  Sure  enough, 
there  were  the  marks  of  columns.  They  had  found 
not  a  stage,  but  a  portico  to  a  great  building  men- 
tioned by  Pausanias,  the  Thersilion.  The  satisfaction 
of  the  English  School  in  uncovering  this  great  build- 
ing partly  atoned  for  the  disappointment  in  not  having 
found  a  stage  to  support  the  statement  of  Vitruvius. 

A  close  study  of  the  ruins  at  Megalopolis  suggests 
that  an  older  theatre  existed,  and  that  the  Thersilion 
was  built  about  the  same  time.  There  were  no  seats 
in  either  of  them  ;  one  was  covered  and  the  other 
uncovered,  and  the  orchestral  circle  lay  between 
them.  Two  steps  led  up  from  the  orchestra  to  the 
Thersilion,  which  was  built  on  an  incline.  The  portico 
served  as  a  skene  for  the  actors.  In  later  times  the 
theatre  and  the  Thersilion  were  rebuilt.  The  level  of 
the  orchestra  was  lowered,  and  three  steps  were  put 
beneath  the  two  already  existing.  This  is  the  expla- 
nation of  the  five  steps  at  Megalopolis  which  have  no 
relation  to  a  stage.  In  still  later  times  the  theatre, 
which  was  of  enormous  size,  became  too  large  for  the 
audience,  and  a  proskenion  was  built  in  the  orchestra 
to  reduce  its  size. 

It  is  a  double  tribute  to  the  general  accuracy  of 
Pausanias  and  the  penetration  of  Curtius  that  the 
plan  of  Megalopolis  made  by  the  latter  based  on 
Pausanias  has  been  proved  by  the  excavations  to  be 
substantially  correct. 


FROM  MEGALOPOLIS  TO  OLYMPIA 

And  now  came  the  march  of  the  Archaeological 
Cavalry.  No  more  railroad  trains,  no  more  carriages. 
The  mountains  lay  between  us  and  Olympia;  the 
only  fitting  way  to  approach  that  world-renowned 
arena  for  the  Greek  games  was  by  a  few  days  of 
severe  athletic  exercise.  With  all  the  assistance  we 
could  get  from  mules  and  horses,  we  should  still 
have  enough  muscular  exertion  to  bring  us  to  Olym- 
pia with  a  proper  self-respect  and  a  fellow-feeling  for 
the  athletes  and  travellers  who  made  the  journey  in 
ancient  days.  The  ladies  had  already  deserted  us, 
not  being  invited  to  this  test  of  endurance,  and  a  few 
"  tender  feet "  took  the  back  track  to  Corinth  and  made 
a  roundabout  journey  by  rail.  But  a  large  part  of 
the  charm  of  the  trip  was  the  crossing  of  the  Arca- 
dian mountains  in  the  spirit  and  the  fashion  of  the 
early  days.  The  whole  aspect  of  the  expedition  was 
changed.  It  became  at  once  more  antique,  more  heroic, 
more  picturesque.  Frequently  it  became  more  amus- 
ing. The  little  Danish  professor  who  maintained  his 
dignity  and  composure  on  wheels  and  rails  had  all  he 
could  do  to  command  them  in  the  saddle.  His  efforts 
to  keep  on  and  the  amount  of  exercise  he  seemed  to 
get  out  of  a  hard  trot  excited  inextinguishable  Hom- 
eric laughter,  except  from  those  who  were  too  sym- 
pathetic or  too  doubtful  of  their  own  position  to  sit 
in  the  seat  of  the  scornful.     I  have  taken  more  than 


THE   PELOPONNESUS  283 

one  photograph  of  the  Archaeological  Cavalry  in 
motion,  but  I  am  not  unkind  enough  to  reproduce  the 
pictures  in  this  book.  A  Greek  saddle  shaped  some- 
thing like  a  sawbuck  is  not  the  most  comfortable 
seat  in  the  world,  and  the  Dalmatian  priest,  whose 
card,  large  enough  for  a  Christmas  chromo,  was  cov- 
ered with  an  extended  enumeration  of  honors,  titles 
and  functions,  ought  to  have  been  excused  from  any 
additional  penance.  My  sympathies  went  out  to  the 
little  animal  which  had  to  bear  this  mass  of  erudition. 
If,  like  Balaam's  ass,  the  gift  of  speech  had  been  con- 
ferred on  this  Peloponnesian  mule,  he  might  have 
addressed  the  priest  in  any  one  of  six  or  eight  lan- 
guages with  a  hope  of  being  understood.  The  mule- 
teers or  agogiats  who  went  along  kept  up  a  continual 
shouting  and  beating,  and  my  sturdy  pony  was  not 
relieved  of  this  annoyance  until  I  had  thrown  away 
the  boy's  club,  and  with  pardonable  exaggeration 
threatened  to  throw  him  over  a  precipice  if  he  struck 
my  beast  again. 

With  twenty-five  horses  and  mules,  three  pack 
mules,  and  eight  or  more  agogiats,  all  under  the  com- 
mand of  Colonel  Dorpfeld,  —  to  whom  a  military  title 
in  this  connection  seems  more  appropriate,  —  we  left 
Megalopolis  and  marched  on  Lykosoura.  Though 
tradition  claims  it  as  the  site  of  the  oldest  town  in 
Greece  and  the  early  seat  of  the  Arcadian  kings,  its 
ruins  seemed  modern  compared  with  those  of  Mycenae 
and  Tiryns,  and  even  with  those  of  Corinth  and 
Athens. 

The  temple  of  Despoina  was  the  main  object  of 
our  pilgrimage.  The  ruins  are  not  imposing  except 
from  their  situation.     It  was  a  Doric  temple,  but  none 


284         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

of  its  columns  are  in  place.  The  fragments  of  tri- 
glyphs  and  moulding  are  of  poor  workmanship,  and, 
taken  with  the  fact  that  the  inscriptions  found  are 
Roman,  point  to  a  Roman  building,  though  elements 
have  been  derived  from  an  earlier  structure.  The 
Greek  priest  who  stood  uncovered  upon  the  threshold 
seemed  as  if  he  might  have  been  one  of  the  original 
worshippers. 

On  a  ridge  commanding  a  panoramaof  the  Arcadian 
mountains  and  plains,  Demetrius,  our  chief  guide, 
spread  our  luncheon  while  we  were  inspecting  the 
temple  ruins.  He  built  a  fire,  made  a  wooden  spit, 
impaled  a  sacrificial  lamb,  and  roasted  it  in  primitive 
Homeric  style  over  a  bed  of  coals.  This  lamb  with 
black  bread,  and  wine  for  the  wine  drinkers,  made  the 
substance  of  our  paschal  meal  on  a  day  which  Europe 
—  not  Greece  —  was  celebrating  as  Good  Friday.  We 
crossed  Mount  Lycaeus,  from  which  we  had  a  splendid 
view  of  the  plains  of  Messenia  to  the  south,  with  Tay- 
getus  (7,900  feet)  covered  with  snow.  The  intervening 
hills  are  stern  and  treeless,  but  the  valley  is  checkered 
with  red  and  green.  We  faced  Laconia.  Sparta  lay 
hidden  beyond  the  mountains.  This  hard,  bleak  coun- 
try might  well  have  been  the  home  of  Lycurgus.  It  is 
not  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey ;  it  is  still  to- 
day the  land  of  black  bread  and  wine.  The  camera 
could  only  blink  helplessly  at  the  magnificent  scenery. 
We  were  in  the  very  centre  of  the  Peloponnesus,  in  a 
sanctuary  of  peaks  and  altars,  with  n'estling  valleys  and 
the  Alpheius  singing  its  way  to  the  sea.  Greece  is 
persistently  mountainous.  The  whole  Peloponnesus 
is  "  rock-ribbed  and  ancient  as  the  sun."  The  strips 
and  squares  of  plain,  if  quilted  together,  would   not 


-^^••/..    -":,?:,_^^^ 


v.\brT?> 

Of  THE 

^NIVERS/TY 


•QPvN\^, 


THE   PELOPONNESUS  285 

cover  more  than  two  or  three  Texan  or  Dakota 
farms.  If  there  were  gold  in  these  mountains,  the 
Arcadians  might  be  wealthy,  but  they  cannot  reap  it 
in  their  fields.  Spartan  frugality,  I  suspect,  was  a 
virtue  of  necessity,  and  it  is  so  to-day.  How  hard  for 
the  people  to  squeeze  a  living  from  these  ungenerous 
mountains ;  how  they  scrimp  and  save  in  their  penury  ! 
Yet  there  are  no  beggars  among  them. 

We  spent  the  night  at  a  little  village  called  Amve- 
lonia,  a  mountain  vineyard  with  walled  terraces  and 
houses  built  of  limestone  quarried  from  the  hills.  I 
went  into  a  little  house  of  one  story  where  a  wid- 
owed mother  was  living  with  her  three  children.  The 
woman  made  a  fire,  spread  a  rug  for  me  on  the  hearth, 
and  brought  milk  and  a  kind  of  hearth  cake,  heavy 
but  sweet,  such  as  I  had  not  before  tasted.  The  little 
girl  brought  some  flowers.  The  older  daughter,  about 
fifteen  years  of  age,  had  beautiful  dark  eyes,  regular 
features,  and  a  sweet  illuminating  smile  which  bright- 
ened the  whole  room.  Her  brother  was  a  manly  boy 
a  year  or  two  older.  At  my  request  he  brought  his 
school  book,  and  by  the  light  of  the  fire  read  some 
passages  from  Xenophon  in  the  old  Greek  with  a  sense 
of  kinship,  as  if  it  really  were  his  grandmother  tongue. 
My  regret  as  we  left  in  the  early  morning  was  that 
the  sun  jealously  refused  to  shine  for  my  kodak  on 
the  sweet  girl's  face. 

Every  traveller  who  has  visited  Bassae  expresses 
surprise  at  suddenly  finding  this  noble  temple  away 
up  on  the  mountain.  Though  we  knew  it  was  there 
and  had  come  to  see  it,  our  interest  was  not  less  keen 
when  we  found  it.  It  is  not,  like  the  Parthenon,  visi- 
ble from  every  point  of  the  compass.     The  mountain 


286         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

has  furnished  its  own  propylaea,  —  a  wild  and  rocky 
approach,  the  only  columns  those  of  sturdy  sentinel 
oaks.  As  the  temple  at  Sunium  is  pre-eminently  the 
shrine  of  the  sea,  so  that  at  Bassse  is  the  shrine  of  the 
mountains;  and  as  at  Sunium  you  feel  that  the  islands 
and  the  sea  belong  to  the  holy  precinct,  so  at  Bassae 
the  grand  environment  of  rock  and  peak  seem  a  part 
of  the  sanctuary.  We  had  entered  one  of  nature's 
solitudes,  and  this  old  Doric  temple,  built  of  a  hard 
bluish  gray  limestone  quarried  from  the  mountain  on 
which  it  stands,  seemed  to  be  a  part  of  the  scenery. 
The  temple  is  supposed  to  have  been  built  on  the  site 
of  a  still  more  ancient  shrine  to  Apollo,  and  is  dedi- 
cated to  the  same  god.  In  modern  times  we  build 
churches  where  we  think  people  will  resort  to  them ; 
in  primitive  days  of  nature  worship  the  Greeks  built 
their  altars  where  they  thought  the  gods  loved  to  come. 
There  is  no  sign  of  an  older  building,  and  the  earliest 
worship  was  probably  at  a  scenic  shrine.  A  pecu- 
liarity of  the  temple  is  that,  contrary  to  all  precedents, 
it  lies  north  and  south,  the  entrance  being  at  the  north. 
It  would  have  been  harder  work,  though  not  impos- 
sible, to  orient  it  to  the  east,  as  was  generally  done. 
It  has  other  peculiarities,  the  most  striking  being  the 
cross  walls  in  the  cella,  each  of  which  is  terminated  by 
a  half-round  Ionic  column.  Dr.  LoUing's  supposition, 
as  given  in  Baedeker,  that  the  floor  was  hollowed  out 
to  collect  rain  water,  is  accounted  for  and  refuted 
by  the  fact  that  the  foundation  has  sunk  in  the 
middle. 

We  were  quartered  for  the  night  in  the  little  village 
of  Saka,  beautifully  situated  on  the  side  of  a  hill  look- 
ing down  to  the  Alpheius.     A  party  of  thirty-three 


THE   PELOPONNESUS  28/ 

men  and  twenty-eight  animals  coming  down  upon  it 
taxed  the  accommodations  of  the  little  village  without 
hotel  or  inn.  The  five  Americans  and  one  German 
who  slept  in  one  room  were  pleased  to  find  that  there 
were  no  other  inhabitants.  The  only  powder  we 
carried  on  the  trip  for  self-defence — insect  powder 
—  was  unnecessary. 

On  Sunday  morning,  April  2d,  when  the  Easter 
bells  of  the  European  world  were  ringing  their  glad- 
ness, we  began  at  seven  o'clock  our  last  day's  march 
to  Olympia.  '  As  the  Greek  Easter  is  twelve  days 
behind  the  European,  our  celebration  was  only 
postponed.  The  way  led  through  shady  pine  groves 
and  along  fresh  valleys,  in  marked  contrast  to  the 
rough,  treeless  mountains  we  had  crossed.  Apple- 
trees  were  in  full  blossom,  birds  were  singing  in  the 
branches,  and  spring  flowers  opening  under  our  feet. 
About  noon  we  took  lunch  at  a  little  village  called 
Mazi.  Men,  women  and  children  turned  out  in  full 
force  to  see  the  cavalcade.  As  nearly  all  recent 
travellers  go  to  Olympia  by  rail  from  Patras  or 
Athens,  a  circus  of  mounted  archaeologists  was  a 
rare  event  to  the  villagers.  If  we  had  been  disposed 
to  pass  ourselves  off  as  a  belated  remnant  of  the  last 
great  Olympian  procession,  the  Mazi  Greeks  might 
have  lost  faith  in  traditions  of  physical  perfection, 
and  presented  our  Danish  professor  with  some  cob- 
bler's wax  and  a  copy  of  Xenophon's  treatise  on 
horsemanship.  As  we  descended  the  slope  into  the 
valley  of  the  Alpheius,  the  view  was  exquisite.  To 
the  west  the  Ionian  Sea  lay  before  us,  and  there  was 
Zante  veiled  in  a  soft  mist,  calm,  convalescent,  pen- 
sive, as  if  regaining  its  strength  after  racking  convul- 


288         THE   ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

sions.     The  rolling,  wooded  hills  and  verdant  valleys 
reminded  me  of  northern  New  England. 

And  now  the  Puritan  reader  may  put  in  a  protest : 
**  Under  the  plea  of  visiting  the  shrines  of  Greece 
you  have  taken  us  all  to  the  theatre,  and  now,  under 
a  similar  plea,  you  are  taking  us  to  an  ancient  Greek 
circus,  to  horse  races,  boxing  matches  and  the  rough 
and  tumble  pancratic  fight."  The  reply  is,  if  you 
are  seeking  the  shrines  of  Greece  you  must  seek 
them  where  they  were  —  the  altar  in  the  centre  of 
the  theatre  and  the  altar  of  Zeus  in  the  centre  of 
the  Altis  or  sacred  precinct  at  Olympia.  The  Olym- 
pian games  were  an  outgrowth  of  Greek  life,  Greek 
nationality  and  Greek  religion.  It  was  a  matter  of 
tradition  that  the  gods  themselves  had  taken  part  in 
these  contests  and  thus  set  the  fashion.  To  develop 
the  body  was  a  fundamental  principle  of  Hellenic 
educators.  Daily  exercise  in  the  palaestra  was  as 
natural  and  necessary  as  eating  and  drinking.  Soc- 
rates was  an  example  of  a  muscular  philosopher 
inured  to  fatigue,  trained  to  temperance  and  frugality. 
Body  without  brains  and  brains  without  body  lacked 
the  balanced  manhood  of  the  Greek  ideal. 

The  sense  of  nationality  was  gratified  in  these 
games,  from  which  all  barbarians  were  excluded; 
and  once  in  four  years,  through  the  very  rivalry  of 
this  contest,  Greece  was  at  unity  with  itself;  for  a 
truce  of  a  month  was  proclaimed  among  all  the 
States,  while  athletes  and  spectators,  artists,  mechan- 
ics, authors,  philosophers  and  statesmen  from  every 
part  of  Greece  were  going  and  returning.  There 
was  an  ethical  side  to  it  in  the  laws  against  fraud 
and  the  exclusion  of  criminals.     The   religious  fea- 


THE   PELOPONNESUS  289 

hire  was  not  a  thin  veneer  of  ceremony,  but  the  cen- 
tral pivot  on  which  the  whole  celebration  turned. 
The  simple  physical  proportions  of  the  sacred  pre- 
cinct, of  the  great  temple  of  Zeus,  the  temple  of 
Hera  and  the  Mother  of  the  gods,  with  the  great 
multitude  of  altars,  show  to  the  traveller  to-day  how 
large  and  important  a  place  religion  had  in  the  exer- 
cises. The  unprofessional,  joyous,  patriotic  character 
of  the  games,  the  unmercenary  reward,  —  a  branch 
from  the  sacred  olive-tree, — the  absence  of  vulgarity 
and  coarseness  in  the  palmy  days  of  the  contests, 
the  added  refinement  of  music,  poetry,  literature  and 
art,  all  gave  these  games  an  artistic  elevation  which 
made  them  seem  but  a  great  national  expression  of 
the  Greek  striving  after  perfection. 

As  we  rode  down  from  Mazi,  approaching  Olympia 
from  the  southeast,  the  hill  of  Cronion  and  the 
Alpheius  winding  below  came  in  sight.  I  tried  to 
imagine  myself  in  the  seventy-seventh  Olympiad 
(472  B.  C),  riding  with  Themistocles  as  a  barbarian 
spectator  to  the  Olympian  games.  For  centuries 
before  that  date  the  flower  of  the  Greek  nation  had 
crossed  these  mountains,  over  the  same  trails,  and 
seen  Cronion  and  the  two  rivers  and  peaceful  Zante 
in  the  calm  sea.  It  is  one  of  the  insensible  charms 
of  travel  in  Greece  that  you  may  frequently  surrender 
yourself  to  illusions  which  for  a  while  there  is  noth- 
ing to  disturb.  The  imagination  dilates  in  a  con- 
genial atmosphere,  and  what  you  see  is  some  soft 
refraction  of  reality,  or  the  diffused  glow  of  a  sunset 
of  poetry  and  tradition  not  yet  faded  into  night. 
Then  the  illusion  is  dispelled,  but  you  are  surprised 
again  to   find   how  much   reality  is  left.     A  jolt  of 

19 


290         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

your  horse  brings  you  back  suddenly  to  the  nine- 
teenth century.  Your  dream  is  gone.  You  expect 
to  see  the  hills  and  the  islands  dissolve  too;  but 
they  stay  there,  and  you  feel  and  know  that  you 
are  indissolubly  united  to  ages  that  are  past  by 
this  very  reality,  by  the  constancy  and  truth  of  a 
beautiful  picture.  Sky,  mountain,  rivers,  sea,  island 
and  plain  were  theirs,  and  they  are  yours. 

We  reached  the  Alpheius.  It  is  still  a  live  river. 
We  were  ferried  across  with  our  mounts  in  two  or 
three  relays  in  a  large  flat  boat,  and  with  the  en- 
thusiasm of  youthful  cavaliers  galloped  up  to  the 
xenodocheion, 

Olympia  is  situated  on  the  north  bank  of  the 
Alpheius,  and  to  the  west  of  the  small  but  mischiev- 
ous Cladeus,  which  is  mainly  responsible  through  a 
change  of  its  course  for  burying  the  sacred  and  out- 
lying precincts  under  acres  of  sand.  Excluding  the 
stadion,  the  whole  ground  covered  by  the  various 
buildings  with  the  intervening  space  was  but  little 
over  ten  acres.  The  Altis,  or  sacred  precinct  in 
which  was  the  central  altar,  was  about  six  hundred 
feet  square.  To  the  east  was  Cronion,  a  hill  which 
furnished  grateful  shade  and  overlooked  the  whole 
ground.  For  a  thousand  years  the  Greek  games, 
beginning  in  undated  traditions,  were  held  in  this 
place  until  they  died  out  in  the  fourth  century  after 
Christ.  Then  Nature  and  man  both  combined  to 
cover  the  place  where  they  were  held  from  the  sight 
of  future  ages.  Earthquakes  shattered  the  temples. 
Barbarians,  once  excluded  from  Olympia,  save  as 
spectators,  swooped  down  to  take  a  belated  revenge, 


THE   PELOPONNESUS  29 1 

and  walls  were  built  to  resist  them.  Christians  with 
no  respect  for  pagan  traditions  built  a  village  in  the 
sacred  precinct  and  used  fragments  of  the  old  temples. 
Successive  inundations  of  the  Cladeus  covered  the 
whole  place  with  a  layer  of  sand  from  ten  to  twenty 
feet  deep. 

Acting  on  an  early  suggestion  of  Winckelmann,  the 
French  conducted  brief  excavations  in  1829,  discov- 
ered the  site  of  the  temple  of  Zeus,  and  took  a  few 
sculptures  to  the  Louvre.  It  was  left  for  the  German 
government,  under  the  lead  of  Ernst  Curtius  and  the 
Crown  Prince  Frederick,  to  win  the  olive  crown.  A 
million  of  marks,  or  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  were  spent  by  that  government,  —  not  to  en- 
rich its  own  museums,  but  to  uncover  for  the  whole 
world  this  buried  but  unforgotten  shrine  of  Hellenic 
nationality  and  pride.  The  excavations  continuing 
from  1875  to  1 88 1  were  conducted  under  a  directory  in 
Berlin,  of  which  Curtius  and  Adler  were  members.  It 
was  at  Olympia  that  Dr.  Dorpfcld,  coming  in  the  third 
year  of  the  excavations,  won  his  spurs  as  an  architect. 
The  work  cost  more  than  anywhere  else  on  account 
of  the  great  mass  of  sand  to  be  removed.  The 
wicked  Cladeus  was  made  to  do  penance  by  carrying 
off  on  its  bosom  a  large  amount  of  the  sand  and  silt 
it  had  brought  down.  Its  energy  in  the  work  of 
restitution  only  showed  how  much  sand  a  small  river 
could  carry  and  made  it  possible  to  believe  how  much 
it  had  done  that  needed  undoing.  Fortunately  the 
<^^ggi"g  St  Olympia  was  done  scientifically,  and  Mr. 
Syngros,  a  wealthy  and  patriotic  Athenian,  built 
a  handsome  museum  in  which  to  shelter  the  sculp- 
tures and  the  sixteen  thousand  bronzes. 


292        THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

For  three  days  we  stayed  at  Olympia,  and  every 
day  Dr.  Dorpfeld  conducted  his  eager  band  to  the 
Altis  and  lectured  six  or  seven  hours,  leaving  us  still 
time  to  examine  the  sculptures  in  the  museum.  I  had 
paid  a  visit  to  Olympia  by  rail  six  months  before, 
and  could  understand  why  a  prominent  German  philol- 
ogist whom  I  met  thought  half  a  day  there  enough. 
Even  with  so  excellent  a  guide-book  as  Baedeker,  the 
stones  are  more  or  less  dumb.  It  was  a  different 
experience  after  the  pilgrim  preparation  of  our  moun- 
tain march  to  find  our  warm  hopes  amply  fulfilled 
in  the  brilliant  exposition  of  these  ruins  by  the 
man  whose  youthful  enthusiasm  found  here  its  first 
opportunity.  Though  a  multitude  of  details  of  tech- 
nique and  structure  were  brought  before  us,  they 
were  all  so  assembled  and  organized  that,  as  if  by  a 
reanimating  trump  of  the  genius  that  first  constructed 
them,  walls  rose  on  foundations,  columns  on  stylo- 
bates,  capitals  on  columns,  architraves  on  capitals, 
triglyphs,  beams,  tiles  and  ornaments  took  their 
places,  and  temples,  altars,  treasure-houses,  council- 
chambers,  were  rebuilt  before  us  in  grand  Apoca- 
lypse. There  was  the  great  temple  of  Zeus  with  its 
colossal  statue  of  Phidias;  the  Heraeon,  the  oldest 
Doric  temple  in  Greece ;  the  temple  to  the  Mother  of 
the  Gods ;  the  central  altar  of  Zeus,  the  Philippeion  ; 
the  treasuries  established  by  different  cities ;  the  Bou- 
leuterion,  where  the  athletes  took  the  regulation  oath; 
the  Palaestra;  the  gymnasium  and  exercise-grounds; 
the  stadion ;  the  Echo  colonnade  ;  and  the  Leonidaeon, 
of  whose  uses  we  are  ignorant.  We  could  form  some 
idea,  too,  from  their  bases  of  the  vast  number  of 
altars   and    statues   which  reminded   spectators   and 


THE  PELOPONNESUS  293 

contestants  of  both  men  and  gods.  The  Byzantine 
church  had  unique  interest  as  an  ancient  Christian 
shrine.  In  the  museum,  too,  we  could  see  pediment 
sculptures  of  the  Zeus  temple ;  the  bold  Victory  of 
Paeonius,  recalling  the  Victory  of  Samothrace  in  the 
Louvre;  and,  peerless  in  its  exquisite  grace,  beauty 
and  finish,  the  Hermes  of  Praxiteles.  We  can  imag- 
ine, on  seeing  this  statue,  what  influence  the  Olympic 
games  must  have  had  upon  sculpture  in  the  develop- 
ment of  models  of  physical  perfection. 

The  scientific  results  of  this  excavation  have  already 
been  fully  published,  and  many  essays  have  been 
written  upon  them.  To  these  the  student  may  turn 
either  for  a  detailed  description  of  the  games  or  of 
the  buildings.  Impossible  to  reproduce  in  any  book 
are  not  only  many  details  of  technique,  texture  and 
workmanship,  but  an  atmosphere  whose  freshened 
breezes  seemed  to  waft  the  aroma  of  earlier  days. 
The  Cronion,  the  Alpheius,  the  Cladeus,  the  spread- 
ing plain,  the  encircling  hills,  are  still  the  framework 
of  the  heroic  picture.  And  after  you  have  bathed  in 
the  Cladeus,  climbed  Cronion,  gathered  anemones  in 
the  plain,  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  sacred  pre- 
cinct and  brooded  over  its  altars,  the  genius  of 
history  seems  to  come  back  again  and  renew  its 
spell. 

Of  Dr.  Dorpfeld's  lectures  the  most  fascinating  to 
me  was  that  on  the  Heraeon,  showing  the  development 
of  the  Doric  architecture  from  the  wooden  structure. 
The  evidence  here,  which  it  would  require  a  long 
chapter  to  detail,  seems  conclusive. 

Our  last  night  at  Olympia  was  given  up  to  an 
international  jollification    in    honor   of    our    leader. 


294         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

Speeches  were  made  in  German,  French,  English, 
Italian,  Latin  and  Greek,  and  the  American  contri- 
bution was  an  Alabama  negro  melody  set  to  German 
words  and  sung  by  a  quartette,  three  of  whom  were 
college  professors.     Shades  of  Pindar ! 

Our  return  trip  to  Athens  was  made  by  rail,  and 
our  ten  days'  journey  was  finished  in  the  allotted 
time. 


V 

PHOCIS 


DELPHI 

Olympia  lay  on  the  plain ;  Delphi  on  the  slope  of 
Parnassus  and  under  the  shadow  of  the  Shining  Cliffs. 
Olympia  drew  all  Greece  to  it;  but  Delphi  claimed 
to  be  the  navel,  the  very  centre  of  the  world.  As 
Olympia  was  the  site  of  the  great  athletic  games 
for  all  Greece,  so  Delphi  became  a  sanctuary  of  na- 
tional interest  and  importance.  In  neither  place  was 
there  a  city;  both  were  away  from  the  main  centres 
of  population  and  far  apart  from  each  other,  —  Olym- 
pia in  Elis  near  the  Ionian  Sea,  and  Delphi  in  Phocis, 
north  of  the  Corinthian  gulf.  The  fame  of  Delphi 
rested  on  its  oracle ;  but  the  Greek  love  for  athletics 
and  dramatic  art  revealed  itself  here  in  the  course  of 
time,  and  not  only  was  there  a  magnificent  temple  of 
Apollo,  but  a  stadium,  and  once  in  every  four  years 
the  Pythian  games  were  celebrated.  The  place  had 
also  a  great  political  significance  as  the  seat  of  that 
interesting  and  ancient  federation  of  States,  the  Del- 
phic Amphictyony. 

In  marked  contrast  to  my  trip  to  Olympia  my 
journey  to  the  Delphic  oracle  was  made  entirely 
alone.  What  better  day  upon  which  to  consult  the 
voice  of  destiny  than  one's  birthday?  Taking  the 
train  from  Athens  to  Corinth,  I  crossed  the  gulf  in 
a  steamer  to  Itea.  The  boat  was  as  tipsy  as  if  it  had 
a  cargo  of  wine  aboard,  but  Dionysus  could  not  be 
blamed ;  the  Corinthian  gulf  was  in  a  sulky  mood. 


298         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

From  the  gulf,  Parnassus,  being  one  of  a  range  of 
peaks,  does  not  seem  so  high  as  it  really  is.  The 
snow  that  lay  on  it  was  a  warning  that  an  ascent  would 
not  be  advisable.  At  Itea  I  hired  a  tough  pony  with 
a  boy,  another  Greek  Nicholas,  for  a  guide.  The 
moon  rose  beautifully  as  we  crossed  the  plain  wind- 
ing through  olive  groves.  After  an  hour  in  the  valley 
the  road  steadily  ascended,  for  Delphi"  is  some  two 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea.  We  passed  through  the 
picturesque  village  of  Chryso,  its  white  houses  bril- 
liantly illumined  by  the  full  moon.  A  clear  stream  of 
water  through  which  my  pony  splashed  flowed  down 
one  of  the  narrow  streets.  Men  and  women  in  the 
doorways  responded  to  my  greeting. 

The  village  of  Delphi  was  set  on  the  steep  moun- 
tain-side. It  added  much  to  the  mystic  spell 
of  the  old  oracle  to  approach  the  place  by  night. 
The  bright  moon  flooding  the  valley  and  silvering 
the  gulf,  the  deep  shadows  of  the  great  cliffs,  the 
water  rushing  through  the  narrow  gorge  between 
them,  the  dark  masses  of  olives  below,  the  ominous 
silence  broken  only  by  the  voice  of  the  fountain,  the 
remoteness  of  every  suggestion  of  modern  life,  —  all 
seemed  to  harbor  deep  and  hidden  mysteries  which 
might  find  utterance  in  some  new-old  oracle. 

There  is  no  inn  at  Delphi,  but  I  found  accommoda- 
tion in  the  house  of  the  keeper  of  antiquities,  Paras- 
kevas.  With  more  faith  in  the  Christian  than  in  the 
pagan  tradition  he  asked  me  if  I  would  please  allow 
the  lamp  to  burn  under  the  icon  of  the  Virgin  in  a 
niche  in  my  chamber.  I  respected  his  piety  and  was 
blessed  with  dreamless  sleep. 

I  rose  at  half-past  four,  and   after  a  breakfast  of 


PHOCIS  299 

boiled  eggs,  white  bread  and  milk,  left  with  a  mule 
and  guide  for  the  Corycian  grotto.  The  road  as- 
cended in  short  zigzags  up  steep  terraces,  till  after 
a  rise  of  several  hundred  feet  we  skirted  the  mountain 
and  descended  into  a  beautiful  wooded  valley  where 
peasants  were  cutting  timber  for  their  new  houses  at 
Delphi.  The  French  Government  had  bought  the 
whole  village,  and  as  fast  as  possible  houses  were 
being  removed  to  make  way  for  excavations.  Almost 
lost  to  view  under  their  loads,  heavily  timbered  fore 
and  aft  with  projecting  bowsprits  and  elongated  rud- 
ders, these  beasts  of  burden  looked  more  like  a  flotilla 
of  rafts  or  a  detachment  of  battering  rams  than  like 
mountain  mules.  We  halted  in  the  hollow  near  a 
large  pond  of  water  and  unbridled  and  tethered  the 
mule.  If  the  Delphic  oracle  is  dumb  the  Delphic 
cuckoos  are  still  vocal,  and  one  of  them  called  thirty- 
two  times  without  stopping.  I  could  only  think  of  a 
German  cuckoo  clock  on  the  strike,  not  to  be  arrested 
until  it  is  run  down.  If  it  were  not  treason  to  cherish 
a  common  Gothic  superstition  at  Delphi,  the  oracular 
cuckoo  meant  that  I  had  thirty-two  years  more  to 
live. 

We  climbed  the  steep  ascent  to  the  grotto.  The 
entrance  is  small  and  low,  but  immediately  beyond 
the  threshold  it  widens  into  a  great  cavern  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  or  three  hundred  feet  long,  two  hun- 
dred feet  wide,  and  thirty  or  forty  feet  high.  The 
water  still  oozed  from  the  roof  as  in  the  days  of  Pau- 
sanias.  We  lighted  our  torches  and  entered  deeper 
into  the  gloom.  Taking  off  shoes  and  stockings  we 
climbed  up  wet  and  muddy  rocks  so  steep  and 
smooth  that  with  difficulty  one  could  get  a  footing, 


30O         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

passed  into  a  chamber  about  a  hundred  feet  long  and 
followed  the  grotto  clear  to  the  end.  Picturesque 
stalactites  hung  from  the  roofs  and  sides.  Pan  and 
the  nymphs  to  whom  this  grotto  was  dedicated  had 
gone,  but  Echo  lingered  there  and  had  not  taken 
cold  in  this  dampness.  The  resonance  was  magnifi- 
cent. We  were  in  a  temple  not  made  with  hands  and 
older  than  any  buried  under  the  village  below. 

Pausanias  says  it  is  a  feat  for  an  able-bodied  man 
to  climb  Parnassus  from  this  point.  I  tried  to  per- 
suade my  guide  to  climb  with  me,  but  he  was  inex- 
orable, and  no  doubt  wisely  so,  for  we  were  not 
prepared  for  an  ascent  through  snow  and  ice. 

Descending  in  the  afternoon,  I  made  my  way  up 
through  the  gorge  of  the  Phaedriades  or  Shining  Cliffs 
to  the  source  of  the  Castalian  spring,  which  Pausanias 
said  was  good  to  drink  and  which  I  found  as  refresh- 
ing as  he.  Every  pilgrim  in  ancient  times  was  ex- 
pected to  purify  himself  at  this  spring.  Below,  women 
were  vigorously  washing  clothes  in  the  poetic  waters 
as  if  cleanliness  were  next  to  godliness.  A  flock  of 
sheep  was  quietly  resting  under  the  shade  of  great 
plane-trees  which,  it  is  pleasant  to  think,  may  be  suc- 
cessors of  those  planted  by  Agamemnon. 

It  is  nature  that  built  this  shrine  at  Delphi,  and, 
however  much  we  may  regret  the  buried  temples 
looted  by  Nero  and  others,  the  scenery  must  always 
have  been  the  awe-inspiring  element  in  this  great 
sanctuary.  Lofty  Parnassus,  the  towering  cliffs,  the 
deep  gorge,  the  flowing  spring,  the  broad  wooded 
valley  below  through  which  the  river  makes  its  way 
to  the  gulf,  tell  the  traveller  why  the  Delphic  oracle 
was  here. 


PHOCIS  301 

Pausaiiias  devotes  not  a  little  space  to  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  invasion  by  the  Gauls,  279  B.  C,  and  their 
repulse  by  the  Greeks.  It  is  a  curious  coincidence 
that  more  than  twenty-one  centuries  later  the  Gauls 
should  invade  Delphi  again  with  the  deliberate  pur- 
pose of  removing  the  whole  town  and  uncovering 
with  reverent  hands  the  temples  which  their  remote 
and  barbaric  forefathers  sought  to  destroy.  With  a 
large  force  of  men  with  picks  and  shovels,  and  small 
cars  running  on  rails  to  carry  the  debris  to  a  long 
distance,  these  enterprising  Gauls  were  industriously 
unearthing  the  Delphi  of  the  past,  and  had  already 
laid  bare  the  terrace  of  the  temple  of  Apollo.  One 
of  their  most  remarkable  and  significant  discoveries 
was  yet  to  be  made.  Pausanias  speaks  of  the  hymns 
sung  in  honor  of  Apollo  and  of  the  contests  that  grew 
out  of  them.  Such  songs,  like  the  voice  of  the  priest- 
ess, have  long  since  died  away  on  the  air,  and  who 
could  have  supposed  that  the  echoes  of  this  music 
would  come  back  to  our  ears?  I  scarce  imagined 
that  beneath  the  ground  I  trod  were  stones  whose 
mute  music  after  twenty  centuries  of  silence  would 
burst  into  song.  A  few  months  after  my  visit  the 
French  School  discovered  two  stones  containing  a 
hymn  to  Apollo,  with  the  Greek  musical  notation  at- 
tached. It  is  a  hymn  of  praise  to  the  god,  to  the 
slayer  of  the  hostile  dragon,  for  beating  back  the 
Gauls,  That  the  name  of  the  Gauls  should  have  been 
inscribed  on  this  very  stone  which  their  modern  succes- 
sors unearthed  completes  the  remarkable  coincidence. 
To  the  triumph  of  uncovering  the  stones  was  added 
the  triumph  of  the  directors  and  associates  of  the 
French  School  in  deciphering  them.     It  was  fitting 


302  THE  ISLES   AND    SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

that  these  sons  of  Gaul  should  first  render  at  Athens 
a  hymn  which  was  sung  by  the  pilgrims  of  the  Attic 
metropolis  as  they  passed  thick-wooded  Helicon  and 
came  to  the  waters  of  Castalia's  plenteous  spring  under 
the  twin  peaks. 

I  have  since  had  the  privilege  of  bringing  out  with 
a  chorus  this  hymn  in  the  "  Athens  of  America."  It 
has  been  harmonized  in  Paris  and  in  Athens,  but  I 
prefer  to  print  it  without  modern  alloy,  that  the  reader 
may  get  as  close  as  possible  to  the  original.  As  the 
invasion  of  the  Gauls  took  place  in  279  B.  c.  it  is 
supposed  that  this  hymn  was  composed  soon  after. 
Rendered  with  a  chorus  of  male  and  female  voices, 
with  flutes  and  harp,  observing  carefully  the  f  rhythm, 
one  may  form,  in  spite  of  the  breaks  in  the  stone,  — 
indicated  in  the  copy  by  the  rests,  —  some  idea  of  the 
form  and  spirit  of  the  oldest  known  piece  of  music  in 
the  world. 

Like  certain  music  as  extremely  modern  as  this  is 
extremely  ancient,  it  must  be  not  only  heard  but 
absorbed.  In  two  public  renderings  I  have  found 
that  singers  would  at  first  persistently  count  six-eight 
instead  of  five-eight  time,  and  that  the  tonality,  espe- 
cially on  the  last  page,  seemed  difficult  and  arbitrary; 
but  after  sufficient  rehearsal  the  best  musicians  sung 
it  with  satisfaction  and  admiration.  The  addition  of 
simple  harmonies  on  the  harp  or  piano  helps  the 
general  effect.  The  key  of  F  minor  of  the  music  that 
follows  is  not  derived  from  the  original  stone,  but 
from  a  modern  transcription.  Some  fragmentary 
words  in  the  original  have  been  omitted. 


PHOCIS 


303 


THE   DELPHIC   HYMN   TO  APOLLO 

Moderato. 


fei  i  I J    ;_-^JU-  J    ^  M  r   g  g  c 


Tbv     _    Kt  -    da    -  pi     -   o-et        kKv  -  toi'      irat   -  6a      /uie  •   ya 


^      /     J     g  1^=^     ^  1;    /^ 


Aov        At    -    bs  e  -    pu      (r'  a  '  re       irap*      d  -    Kpo  -    ri    •    0^ 


^r    ff  g—r^a  ^'  J^-Jirr— ir-7 


Tov    -    5e        ira.  -  you  a/u,     -    /3po   -  ra      npo    -    ira    -    <ri        0po 


^    g    r  1-^^^^^^ 


jijhfy-t~f 


J   J   J   J 


TOis  >rpo  -  (ftai    -   reis        Xo    -    yi    -    a        rpC  -  jto     -  5a 


ret    -  ov 


(is         el    -    Aes     e  -  x^P^S    S**       «  -  'f>pov    -  pet      8pa 


0     -    re        T€    -    ot      -    o-t        ^e   -    Ae    -    <rii/        «    •    rpij    -    eras 


y^c— r-T-T  I  r    g  f  I  ^    ^   ^  : 


-    Ao;/        e    -    At      •      Krav      <f>v  •  a» 


TOV     'A  -  pijs 


ov        €    -    jre     -   pas      a   •   ae  -   WTOt 


304  THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

»  1 


kh    .       .     .     \r,    .     ^     \       r— I.       .     ,     I.     ^    .>     I    . 


^^  V  If   r  rr-Mr   c  r  i  "^^ 


i^r't^^L 

1 

Ir  g  r  1 

3 

?EE1E*= 

6 

3=rd 

3 

jA^ ^    ^   /  /  ij    J  J  J'  ij^^ 


-    Ai    -    Ku    -    va       Pa   -    6v  -    Sev  -    £pov 


j,b''i,'-  J  J  J  J  ji_M-  J  J  ri]  I  /  J  J  J 


Aa  -  x«  -  Te      Ai  -   b;         e    -    pt  -  ^p6  -  (lov  0v  -  ya  -  rpes     €v 


(6      -    Ae  -    vol        /xd    •    Ae    •    re       (rvv    -  d    -     /u.ai    -    fiov    i   •    va. 


i.j>b\^ ;  J  /  g 


S$         a    -    VOL        Sl   -    Ko  '    pv    -    VI    -    a       Hap   -    va    -    a<yi  -  60s 


T05    -    8e        we  -    Tc   -  pas  e    -    Spa   -  va        fie  -  ra    kAu  -  rat  -  eis 


va    -    ixar       i    -      iri     -     vt    -     ae    -    rai  AeA 


a    •     vo 


PHOCIS 


306         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 


THE  DELPHIC   HYMN   TO  APOLLO. 

[Sung  by  Attic  men  and  maids  in  honor  of  the  victory  over  the  Gauls  279  b.  c.] 
Greek  words  and  musical  notes  discovered  at  Delphi,  October,  1893. 

Translated  by  Francis  Greenleaf  Allinson,  Ph.D. 

Thee  with  the  cithara  famed,  I  '11  sing, 

Son  of  great  Zeus. 
Thou  by  this  snowy  peak  from  thy  shrine 
Fore-shewest  to  mortals  words  divine  ; 
Thou  madest  the  oracle's  tripod  thine 
From  guard  of  the  dragon,  implacable,  fierce, 
Whom,  mottled  and  coiling,  thy  arrows  pierce. 
Now  Galatan  war-god's  sibilant  sting 

Dost  conquer  and  bruise. 


Daughters  of  Zeus  whose  thunder  rolls, 

Fair  armed,  come. 
Dowered  with  Helicon's  leafy  knolls, 
Praise  with  your  dances,  praise  with  song 
Golden-haired  Phoebus,  your  blood  and  kin, 
Who  near  Parnassus  —  these  hill-tops  twin  — 
Haunts  where  Castalia's  fountain  leaps 
And  visits  precipitous  Delphic  steeps, 

Th'  oracle's  home. 

Glorious  Attica's  city  of  might, 

Come  with  thy  band. 
Vows  are  fitting  :  thy  dwellings  stand 
Scathless  in  arm^d  Athena's  land  ; 
On  consecrate  altars  Hephaestus  burns 
Thighs  of  young  bulls  ;  while  Araby's  smoke 
Curls  to  Olympus  :  the  flutes  invoke 
Melodies  shrill  with  quavering  turns  ; 
The  cithara,  sweet-voiced,  golden,  bright, 

Hymneth  its  praise  — 
And  all  who  have  share  in  this  Attic  rite 

Their  anthems  raise. 


MY    LIITLE    MONK. 


THE   MONASTERY   OF   ST.   LUKE 

I  made  my  pilgrimage  to  the  Delphic  shrine  and 
the  grotto  of  Pan;  they  were  not  wholly  dumb  for 
me.  I  determined  to  balance  my  religious  accounts 
by  visiting  a  Christian  shrine,  famed  for  beauty  of 
site  and  structure,  —  the  monastery  of  St.  Luke,  about 
nine  hours  by  mule  from  Delphi.  Rising  at  five 
o'clock  on  Sunday,  May  28,  I  asked  my  host  for  his 
bill.  For  two  nights'  lodging  and  four  meals  Kyrios 
Paraskevas  charged  me  ten  drachmas,  at  that  time 
equal  to  $1.40,  to  which  I  added  two  drachmas  for 
his  attentive  wife. 

On  this  trip  from  Delphi  to  St.  Luke's  I  found 
the  best  agogiat  that  I  had  seen  in  Greece.  The 
agogiat  is  the  man  or  boy  who  acts  as  guide,  groom, 
and  general  factotum.  The  Grecian  mule,  wearing  a 
halter  instead  of  a  bit  and  having  a  loose  girth,  is 
saved  some  of  the  miseries  of  his  American  contem- 
porary. The  rider  has  little  power  over  him  when 
he  wishes  to  choose  his  own  road,  but  as  a  general 
thing  he  is  so  intelligent  that  it  is  best  to  defer  to 
him  in  such  matters.  When  there  is  any  appeal 
from  his  decision  the  agogiat  acts  as  umpire.  He 
walks  by  the  mule's  side,  urges  him  with  whip  or 
voice,  and  as  the  animal  seldom  goes  out  of  a  walk 
he  has  no  difficulty  in  keeping  up  with  him.  The 
saddle  is  a  peculiar  wooden  structure,  like  an  inverted 
pig-trough,  with   Gothic   projections    useful   for   half 


308         THE  ISLES   AND    SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

hitches  in  lashing  burdens.  There  is  nothing,  whether 
it  be  a  load  of  timber,  water  casks,  brush-wood, 
or  crockery,  that  a  good  agogiai  cannot  pack  on 
the  animal's  back  and  fasten  in  a  style  akin  to  the 
"  diamond  hitch "  of  our  northwestern  muleteer. 

My  agogiat  on  this  trip  bore  the  distinguished 
name  of  the  ''All  holy  Luke"  (Panagiotes  Loukas 
Kapellou),  and  seemed  to  me  to  be  worthy  of  the 
title.  He  was  a  strong,  heavy-built  man,  a  little 
over  fifty  years  of  age,  cosmopolitan  in  dress.  Though 
he  did  not  wear  the  fustanella  skirt,  he  trod  the  soil 
in  Greek  shoes  and  leggings.  His  long  blue  and 
white  peasant  blouse  coming  to  the  knees  was  but- 
toned down  the  middle  and  corded  round  the  waist. 
His  large  head,  with  a  frank,  open,  full-bearded  face, 
was  crowned  with  a  straw  hat.  Without  excep- 
tion he  had  the  best  looking  mule  that  I  saw  in 
Greece,  —  a  strong,  round,  sleek  animal,  well  fed  and 
well  bred.  The  saddle  was  actually  provided  with 
stirrups,  and  instead  of  the  usual  narrow  strap  which 
cuts  and  irritates  the  animal  the  breeching  band  was 
as  broad  as  my  hand. 

Leaving  Delphi  we  rode  through  a  large  olive  grove 
belonging  to  Panagiotes ;  the  trees  seemed  as  well 
kept  as  the  mule.  The  nightingales  were  singing 
joyfully.  Clear,  eager  streams  crossed  our  paths, 
some  of  them  thriftily  diverted  into  the  olive  groves 
for  irrigation.  Leaving  the  groves  the  path  ascended 
long  steep  hills,  from  the  highest  of  which  after  a 
ride  of  two  hours  we  had  a  fine  view  of  Arachova  on 
the  left.  I  was  glad  about  nine  o'clock  of  a  slice  of 
the  brown  bread  which  Panagiotes  carried  in  his 
wallet.     About   noon   we  reached   Distomo,  a   little 


PHOCIS  309 

village  near  the  site  of  the  ancient  Ambrysus,  and 
stopped  at  the  inn  for  an  hour's  rest.  While  the 
keeper  cooked  a  piece  of  lamb  for  our  lunch  I  sat 
down  in  a  room  filled  with  men  and  boys.  Taking 
a  Greek  book  from  my  pocket  I  got  some  of  the 
boys  to  read  patriotic  selections,  including  the  na- 
tional hymn.  Considering  that  I  found  these  boys 
in  a  little  mountain  village  they  read  remarkably 
well.  The  road  from  Distomo  offered  easier  grades, 
and  we  reached  St.  Luke's  about  three  o'clock. 

The  situation  of  the  monastery  is  simply  exquisite. 
It  is  built  on  a  mountain  slope  overlooking  a  fertile 
valley.  Green  barley  fields  contrast  with  dark  under- 
brush, and  here  and  there  a  grove  of  olives ;  beyond 
are  sloping  foot-hills  and  grander  mountains.  The 
birds  were  singing  blithely,  the  sun  was  radiant,  and 
the  whole  landscape,  a  beautiful  combination  of  curve 
and  color,  seemed  vivified  by  the  germinating  warmth 
of  a  May  day.  St.  Luke's  long  held  the  titles  of 
"  The  queen  of  the  monasteries  and  the  glory  of 
Hellas."  It  is  dedicated  not  to  the  good  physician 
whose  name  is  affixed  to  one  of  the  Gospels,  but  to 
a  later  Greek  saint  who  distinguished  himself  by  his 
piety  a  thousand  years  ago  and  around  whose  tomb 
the  monastery  was  built.  It  contains  two  churches. 
The  larger  one  has  suffered  much  from  pillage,  earth- 
quake and  decay,  but  some  of  the  better  mosaics 
are  still  well  preserved.  There  are  forty-five  monks 
in  the  monastery  and  thirty  laborers.  From  their 
olive  groves  and  vineyards  they  derive  a  good  income. 
I  was  interested  in  the  church,  in  the  ground,  in  the 
hegoumenos,  or  prior,  in  the  beautiful  scenery,  but 
most  of  all  in  Basileios. 


3IO        THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

Basil,  as  we  called  him  for  short,  was  a  boy  of 
thirteen.  He  was  dressed  in  a  monk's  gown,  but 
his  ecclesiastical  hat  was  not  so  high  as  that  of  his 
elders ;  it  will  grow  with  the  boy.  He  was  a  monk 
in  the  opening  bud ;  but  the  bloom  of  the  boy  was 
more  exquisite  than  that  of  the  monk.  His  eyes 
were  a  soft  brown,  even  more  expressive  than  his 
tongue.  Through  them  you  could  read  his  guileless 
mind.  He  spoke  Greek  not  with  Athenian  purity, 
but  with  a  soft,  winning  accent.  At  first  he  spoke 
only  in  a  whisper,  as  if  the  sanctity  of  the  place  would 
be  broken  if  he  talked  louder.  But  after  he  knew 
me  better  he  spoke  with  more  ardor,  and  some- 
times faster  than  I  could  follow.  He  went  about 
bare-footed,  and  I  envied  him  his  freedom  from 
shoe-leather.  As  I  had  come  too  late  for  service  I 
confessed  my  wanderings  to  my  brave  little  acolyte 
and  said  the  Lord's  Prayer  to  him  in  Greek. 

Basil  is  an  important  element  in  the  refectory. 
The  monastery  is  not  conducted  on  the  communal 
plan.  The  hegotimenos  lives  by  himself  and  takes  his 
meals  with  another  monk  in  a  separate  dining-room. 
Basil  does  the  cooking.  The  meat  for  our  dinner  was 
cut  into  little  pieces  and  spitted  on  an  iron  rod  with  a 
crank  on  one  end.  The  monk  basted  the  meat  as 
the  boy  turned  it  patiently  on  the  spit.  I  had  a 
room  to  mj^self  and  plenty  of  books,  but  I  found  it 
more  interesting  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  to  sit  in 
front  of  the  fire  and  watch  the  revolutions  of  the 
spit,  looking  now  and  then  into  my  little  monk's 
deep  eyes  and  trying  to  win  his  smile  by  some 
attempted  pleasantry.  Basil  reminded  me  of  the 
lame  boy  I  saw  at   Gastouri  radiant   with  sunshine. 


PHOCIS  311 

Such  faces  I  should  like  to  look  upon  in  some  cloudy 
day  in  my  life,  to  rekindle  my  hope  from  a  shining 
heart 

About  eight  o'clock  we  sat  down  to  dinner,  con- 
sisting of  meat  and  vegetables,  bread  and  wine.  We 
were  four  at  the  table,  the  hegoumenoSy  the  other 
priest,  Panagiotes  and  myself.  The  priests  crossed 
themselves  and  said  KohJqv  ope^cv.  The  hegoumenos 
piled  my  plate  high ;  as  for  the  rest  they  took  little 
on  their  plates,  but  each  with  his  fork  hooked  a  piece 
from  the  general  dish.  There  was  a  suggestion  of 
New  Testament  communism  and  the  paschal  meal 
when  they  took  pieces  of  bread  on  their  forks  and 
dipped  them  into  the  central  platter. 

In  the  evening  I  had  a  talk  with  the  hegoumenos 
and  with  Panagiotes  sitting  on  the  veranda  in  the 
moonlight  and  looking  into  the  moonlit  valley  below. 
We  talked  about  the  Greek  Church  and  about  the 
monasteries. 

"  To  become  a  member  of  the  Greek  Church " 
said  the  hegoumenos,  "  you  must  accept  the  faith  of 
the  church  according  to  the  Gospel." 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  old  philosophers, 
Socrates  and  Plato  and  the  rest  of  them?"  I  asked. 
"Did  they  go  to  punishment  or  to  heaven?" 

"I  don't  know,"  he  answered.  He  did  not  seem 
to  have  any  sharp  belief  on  questions  of  eschatology 
but  Panagiotes  promptly  suggested :  "  I  believe  a 
man  who  has  lived  a  good  life  here  will  have  a  good 
life  there,  and  a  man  who  has  been  bad  here  will  be 
bad  there."  I  could  not  discover  any  anxiety  as  to 
the  fate  of  the  heathen,  and  the  prior  seemed  more 
disturbed  at  the  proposition  in  Athens  to  raise  from 


312  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

the  monasteries  a  fund  from  which  to  pay  the  priests. 
The  Greek  Church  is  not  a  missionary  church. 

It  was  just  four  o'clock  the  next  morning  when  I 
heard  a  voice  whisper  in  my  ear.  It  was  Basil.  I 
dislike  alarm  clocks  and  did  not  wind  him  up  to  go 
off  at  that  hour,  but  he  seemed  to  take  the  respon- 
sibility of  my  religious  education,  and  in  his  small 
still  voice  said  that  there  were  services  in  the  chapel, 
and  that  it  was  the  festival  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  It 
was  rain,  not  the  service,  that  interfered  with  an 
early  start,  but  the  rain  fell  as  gently  as  if  it  were  a 
part  of  the  ritual,  and  far  more  musically  than  the 
voices  that  intoned  it.  By  half-past  seven  the  shower 
had  passed,  the  sun  came  out  bright,  and  a  fresh 
breeze  blew  over  the  hills.  I  said  good-by  to  the 
monks  and  to  Basil  and  started  back  to  Delphi  with 
my  guide  and  his  mule.  Sometimes  I  walked  for  an 
hour  and  let  Panagiotes  ride,  and  often  going  up  the 
hill  we  both  walked  and  gave  the  mule  a  rest.  My 
respect  for  this  sturdy  Greek  increased  the  more  I 
knew  him.  He  could  speak  no  language  but  his 
own,  but  he  could  read  and  write  that,  for  I  made 
excuses  for  testing  him  in  both  ways.  He  was 
remarkably  intelligent.  He  knew  the  drift  of  Greek 
politics  and  the  Scylla  and  Charybdis  of  Greek 
finance.  *'  You  ought  to  have  gone  to  Parliament," 
I  said.  "  No,"  he  answered,  *'  I  have  not  the  edu- 
cation;" but  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  he  had  the 
brains.  He  is  not  without  honor  in  his  own  town ; 
he  has  represented  the  modern  Delphi  in  the  nom- 
archy  and  been  president  of  the  council.  As  we 
rode  through  the  village  of  Distomo  I  asked  him 
what  it  meant  that  so  many  men  were   lying  round 


PHOCIS  313 

doing  nothing.  He  reminded  me  that  it  was  the 
feast  of  the  Trinity  and  immediately  repeated  a 
passage  from  the  creed.  I  am  convinced  that  the 
Greeks  have  too  many  holidays  and  that  the  church 
calendar  might  profitably  be  reduced  about  one 
half. 

We  rode  for  a  long  time  on  our  way  back  to 
Delphi  in  full  view  of  Parnassus.  The  grandeur  of 
the  mountain  is  indescribable.  The  sun  shone  on 
its  snow-covered  peaks;  soft  white  clouds  gathered 
round  its  breast ;  then,  as  if  trying  how  to  drape  it 
best,  they  swept  up  the  steep  and  wound  a  fleecy  tur- 
ban round  its  brow.  Only  a  few  minutes  did  this  co- 
quetry last ;  soon  the  "  eternal  sunshine  settled  on  its 
head."  Equally  striking  was  the  yiew  from  the  high- 
est point  of  our  trail  of  the  Corinthian  Gulf  with  the 
mountains  of  the  Peloponnesus  in  the  background, 
while  the  valley  as  we  rode  towards  Delphi  spread 
its  varied  charm.  These  were  the  same  views  that 
greeted  the  eyes  of  the  pilgrims  to  the  sacred  shrine 
as  they  came  so  many  centuries  ago  chanting  their 
hymns  to  Apollo.  Mountain  and  valley,  gulf  and 
grove,  sky  and  atmosphere  were  all  Greek,  but  not 
more  so  than  my  good  Panagiotes.  He  belonged  to 
the  landscape;  and  in  his  stalwart  frame,  active 
mind,  and  thrifty  hand  some  of  the  best  spirit  of  the 
old  Greek  race  was  preserved. 


VI 

THESSALY 


TEMPE   AND   METEORA 

If  "aller  guten  Dinge  sind  drei,"  then  our 
Thessalian  party  was  of  the  right  number.  Pro- 
fessor Tarbell,  the  director  of  the  American  Archae- 
ological School  at  Athens,  had  planned  the  campaign ; 
Mr.  Roddy,  a  student,  and  myself  made  up  the  other 
sides  of  the  triangle.  Taking  a  Greek  steamer  at 
the  Piraeus  for  Volo  on  the  evening  of  the  sixth  of 
May,  we  wisely  sought  our  berths  before  reaching 
Sunium,  where  Poseidon  loves  to  rock  the  ocean 
cradle.  The  steamer  for  Volo  avoids  the  uncertain 
temper  of  the  ^gean  and  touches  at  the  principal 
ports  of  Euboea,  which  are  on  the  west  coast  of  the 
island,  by  sailing  through  the  strait  which  separates 
it  from  Attica  and  Breotia.  This  channel  is  made 
of  two  broad  gulfs  joined  by  a  narrow  strait,  the 
Euripus,  which  is  divided  by  an  islet  that  undoubt- 
edly formed  part  of  a  ligament  between  Euboea  and 
the  mainland.  The  channel  is  but  seventy  feet 
wide  on  one  side  of  this  rock  and  thirty  on  the 
other.  A  remarkable  natural  feature  is  the  strong 
and  variable  current  which  flows  through  this  nar- 
row strait.  It  was  a  puzzle  to  the  ancients,  and 
has  been  a  provocation  to  their  descendants.  The 
statement  of  some  of  the  early  Greek  and  Roman 
writers  that  the  current  sometimes  changed  seven 
times   a   day   is   outdone  by  that   of  Rear-Admiral 


3l8         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

Mansell  ^  of  the  British  navy,  who  says  he  has  known 
it  to  change  five  times  in  an  hour,  and  that  the  water 
driven  north  upon  the  Thessalian  coast  by  strong 
southern  winds  will  rush  down  through  these  straits 
against  the  wind  at  a  velocity  of  eight  knots  an 
hour.  One  of  the  poisonous  legends  which  some- 
times entwine  themselves  round  a  great  man's 
memory  had  an  aquatic  origin  here.  It  was  to  the 
effect  that  Aristotle  drowned  himself  because  he 
could  not  fathom  the  secrets  of  these  currents,  say- 
ing, "  Inasmuch  as  I  cannot  take  thee  in,  take  thou 
me  in."  It  seems  a  literary  cruelty  to  spoil  such  a 
well-balanced  antithesis  even  to  save  a  philosopher 
from  drowning,  but  the  story  has  a  fishy  odor;  and 
it  is  the  man  who  swallows  it  who  is  taken  in. 

We  arrived  at  the  Euripus  at  seven  a.  m.  ,  and  were 
obliged  to  wait  three  and  a  half  hours  on  account  of 
the  tide.  But  that  was  not  nearly  so  long  as  the 
Grecian  fleet  bound  for  Troy  was  detained  here  by 
adverse  winds  in  the  Bay  of  Aulis.  Taking  warn- 
ing by  the  fate  of  Agamemnon  and  Iphigenia,  we 
did  not  go  hunting,  but  climbed  the  height  to 
sep  just  where  a  thousand  Greek  ships  could  find 
anchorage  in  the  harbor.  I  suspect  that  they  must 
have  stretched  out  into  the  gulf,  or  that  some  of 
them  found  their  keel  only  in  Homer's  catalogue, 
which  by  floating  these  hypothetical  ships  was  more 
easily  floated  itself. 

Leaving  Euripus,  the  channel  widens  into  a  gulf, 
with  the  fertile  fields  of  Euboea  on  the  right  and 
the  mountains  of  Boeotia  on  the  left.  Though  too 
late  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Thermopylae,  I  fancied  as 

1  See  Murray's  Hand-Book. 


THESSALY  319 

we  passed  it  that  the  atmosphere  was  a  little  warmer 
because  the  Spartan  heroes  had  there  breathed  out 
their  lives. 

It  was  dark  when  we  entered  the  Bay  of  Volo,  and 
nine  o'clock  when  we  arrived  at  the  port  of  that 
name  at  the  head  of  this  noble  bay.  Mount  Pel  ion, 
5,300  feet  high,  towers  above  the  city,  its  slopes 
whitened  by  a  score  of  villages  long  famous  in 
Greece  for  their  wealth  and  independence.  I  re- 
gretted that  I  had  not  time  to  visit  these  villages  in 
detail  and  study  the  sources  of  their  thrift.  But  an 
iron  horse  more  powerful  than  the  horses  of  Achilles 
was  ready  to  rush  over  the  fertile  plains  where  the 
warrior's  steeds  were  reared.  We  had  no  time  to 
climb  Pelion  to  follow  the  trail  of  one-sandalled 
Jason  or  to  find  the  ash-tree  from  which  Chiron  cut 
Peleus  his  famous  spear.  Eleven  miles  from  Volo 
we  reached  Velestino.  The  smoke  of  the  locomotive 
was  mingled  with  a  cloud  of  tradition  which  hung 
over  the  ancient  Pherae.  Apollo,  who  here  served 
out  his  sentence  as  neatherd,  King  Admetus,  Jason, 
Alcestis,  and  Hercules,  were  all  floating  in  the 
invisible  air,  but  could  not  be  found  on  the  solid 
earth.  A  black,  snorting  locomotive  and  a  train  of 
cars  easily  chase  such  apparitions  to  their  graves. 
At  Velestina  the  road  to  Larissa  runs  north  over  the 
broad  fertile  Thessalian  plain.  We  were  in  no 
pent-up  valley ;  we  found  something  of  the  freedom 
of  our  prairies,  which  one  gets  nowhere  else  in 
Greece.  Yet  lest  life  here  should  become  too  flat 
and  too  profitable,  Pelion  and  Mavro  Vouni,  the 
mountain  wall  to  the  east,  and  Ossa  and  Olympus 
to  the  north,  say  "Thus  far  and  no  farther." 


320         THE   ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

Through  the  Graeco-Turkish  War  Larissa  has 
become  familiar  all  over  the  world  to  people  who 
had  never  heard  of  it  before.  Its  re-occupation  by 
the  Turks  gave  them  the  key  to  Thessaly  and  opened 
the  way  to  Volo.  As  we  sought  it  in  the  spring  of 
1893,  it  was  lying  peacefully  on  the  banks  of  the 
Peneius,  a  fine  bridge  spanning  the  classic  river. 
The  contrast  between  Larissa  and  Athens,  or  any  of 
the  larger  cities  of  the  Peloponnesus,  is  at  once  evi- 
dent. The  Turk  has  left  his  signature  in  mosque 
and  pencilled  minaret,  in  Oriental  dwellings,  in 
Turkish  porters  with  capacious  trousers,  and  that 
most  democratic  of  all  head-coverings  worn  by 
Sultan,  generals,  soldiers,  gentlemen,  bootblacks, 
porters,  and  babies,  the  Turkish  fez.  The  storks 
were  flying  about  with  great  liberty,  and  one  of 
sedentary  habits  and  Mohammedan  affinities  had 
built  a  nest  on  the  top  of  a  mosque  and  was  sitting 
upon  it  with  ecclesiastical  composure.  The  medley 
of  dress  in  Larissa  is  cosmopolitan,  but  discordant. 
Some  are  half  Turk  and  half  European.  Some  wear 
the  Greek  fustanella,  others  confine  their  Hellenism 
to  Greek  shoes.  Water  is  brought  up  from  the  river 
in  large  pouches  or  skins  on  the  backs  of  mules. 

So  well  have  law  and  order  been  extended  over 
Greece,  that  the  only  place  where  brigandage  is 
likely  to  break  out  is  along  the  northern  or  Turkish 
frontier;  but  we  had  good  assurance  that  at  Tempe 
no  guard  was  necessary,  and  did  not  trouble  ourselves 
to  ask  for  a  military  escort.  It  is  four  and  a  half 
hours'  ride  to  Baba  by  carriage.  We  planned  to 
spend  the  night  at  that  little  village  at  the  opening 
of  the  Vale  of  Tempe  and  to  return  to  Larissa  the 


THESSALY  321 

next  day.  The  first  hackman  asked  sixty  drachmas, 
but  by  exploring  the  back  streets  we  finally  got  one 
for  thirty-five  (about  five  dollars). 

We  started  at  half-past  twelve.  The  roads  were 
heavy  from  the  rain  of  the  previous  night,  the  air  was 
fresh,  and  the  fields  were  green.  Thessaly  is  still 
famous  for  its  horses;  many  were  grazing  in  the 
fields,  and  there  were  great  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats. 
The  broad  expanse  of  plain  was  dotted  here  and 
there  with  oaks,  elms  and  plane-trees.  An  indus- 
trious peasant  was  ploughing  the  field;  his  one- 
handled  plough  was  old  enough  for  a  museum,  but 
his  oxen  were  well  fed  and  strong.  Alas,  that  this 
Thessalian  grain  should  be  trampled  under  foot  of 
armed  men !  Greece  had  long  claimed  and  needed 
these  fertile  fields,  and  they  were  long  unjustly 
withheld  from  her.  She  has  plenty  of  water,  but 
she  has  needed  more  land  to  make  a  nation. 

The  mountains  continually  say  to  the  traveller, 
"Lift  up  thine  eyes."  There  is  Pelion  to  the  right 
with  a  touch  of  snow  on  its  crest.  Farther  to  the 
north  the  sharp  peak  of  Ossa  rises  above  the  moun- 
tains and  foothills  that  engird  its  base.  Still  farther 
to  the  north  and  grandest  of  all  is  many-ridged, 
snow-covered  Olympus.  The  epithet  TroXuSet/oa?, 
"with  many  ridges,"  used  in  the  Iliad,  is  of  striking 
fitness.  It  was  not  a  literary  conceit,  for  Nature 
coined  the  adjective.  Seen  from  the  plain  there 
are  five  distinct  ridges,  as  if  five  colossal,  long- 
backed,  elephantine  mountains  had  been  harnessed 
side  by  side  and  blanketed  with  snow.  The  great 
snow  mass  was  enough  to  soften  but  not  to  obscure 
the  wavy  outline  of  the  many  ridges,  and  the  clouds 


322         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

gathered  above  as  if  enshrouding  the  aerial  palace 
of  Zeus.  Soon  they  floated  off  and  left  the  upper 
air  clear  and  the  peaks  brilliant,  recalling  the  beau- 
tiful passage  in  the  Odyssey,  "  So  saying,  gray-eyed 
Athene  passed  away  to  Olympus,  where  they  say  the 
seat  of  the  gods  stands  fast  forever.  Not  by  winds 
is  it  shaken,  nor  ever  wet  with  rain,  nor  does  the 
snow  come  near,  but  cloudless  upper  air  is  spread 
about  it,  and  a  bright  radiance  floats  over  it." 

There  would  have  been  a  decided  change  in  the 
scenery  if  those  lively  and  precocious  youngsters 
Otus  and  Ephialtes  had  had  their  way  in  piling  Ossa 
on  Olympus  and  Pelion  on  Ossa  as  stepping-stones 
to  higher  things.  They  would  have  done  it,  says 
Homer,  with  great  confidence,  if  they  had  grown 
up ;  for  they  were  only  fifty-four  feet  high,  and  the 
down  had  just  begun  to  grow  on  their  cheeks  when 
they  were  nipped  in  the  bud,  and  went  to  long  but 
untimely  graves. 

We  reached  the  little  khan  of  Baba  at  five  o'clock, 
and  after  arranging  for  supper  and  lodging,  had  time 
to  take  a  walk  through  the  Vale  of  Tempe  before 
sunset.  This  famous  vale  is,  as  its  name  signifies, 
a  "  cut "  or  pass  in  the  mountains.  The  cliffs  which 
form  it  belong  on  one  side  to  the  chain  of  Ossa  and 
on  the  other  side  to  that  of  Olympus.  The  vale  is 
four  and  a  half  miles  long.  The  cliffs  rise  with 
noble  grandeur,  and  through  the  gorge  the  Peneius 
flows  to  the  sea.  Its  banks  are  well  wooded  with 
the  plane,  elm,  oak,  willow,  and  wild  fig.  Some  of 
the  plane-trees  are  of  great  size.  Especially  impres- 
sive was  a  pair  of  twin  trunks  rising  from  a  gigantic 
base.     The  rocks  on  each  side  were  covered  with 


THE   VALE   OF   TEMPE. 


THESSALY  323 

hardy  bushes  and  clinging  vines.  We  were  in  the 
vale  just  in  time  for  the  fresh  greenness  of  the 
leaves,  the  spring-tide  of  the  river  and  the  spring 
carols  of  the  birds.  Among  them  were  the  clear, 
fluent,  bell-like  tones  of  the  nightingale.  Is  it 
more  shy  than  most  professional  singers,  or  is  it 
only  coquettish }  We  hid  ourselves  in  the  bushes  to 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  Meistershtger^  — for  I  dare  not 
call  a  male  song-bird  a  prima  donna.  I  was  sur- 
prised at  the  extreme  plainness  of  the  nightingale's 
dress;  its  plumage  is  of  a  reddish  brown  with  a  dull 
gray  breast.  In  garb  it  is  a  sober  Quaker  among 
the  birds,  and  if  the  members  of  that  religious 
society  were  to  hold  a  grove  meeting  in  the  Vale  of 
Tempe,  they  would  not  have  the  heart  to  condemn 
the  ravishing  music  of  their  feathered  Friends.  In 
the  distance  the  horological  cuckoo  was  measuring  off 
his  voice.  The  setting  sun  shone  through  the  vale. 
As  we  advanced,  the  mountains  came  nearer  together, 
until  there  was  only  room  in  the  defile  for  the  rush- 
ing river  and  the  roadway  beside  it.  Far  up  on  the 
mountain-side  was  a  small  village,  and,  near  it,  fine 
cows  —  not  very  numerous  in  Greece  —  were  graz- 
ing in  the  fields.  The  village  on  the  terrace  is 
Ambelakia,  which,  in  spite  of  its  remoteness  in  this 
vale,  was  famed  in  France  and  Europe  for  its  dye- 
ing and  spinning,  conducted  on  a  co-operative  plan. 
We  returned  to  the  khan  at  sundown  and  had  a 
meal  as  plain  as  the  plumage  of  the  nightingale.  It 
was  made  up  of  brown  bread,  milk,  and  boiled  eggs. 
The  eggs  were  fresh,  the  milk  sweet,  and  the  brown 
bread  wholesome.  No  animals  disturbed  our  sleep 
except  an  inquisitive  cat,  which  jumped  in  the  win- 


324         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

dow  and  then  jumped  out  again,  while  cuckoos  in 
the  vale  conscientiously  counted  the  hours.  We 
adjusted  our  appetites  to  a  breakfast  which  was  an 
exact  repetition  of  our  supper.  Two  swallows  came 
in  and  flew  round  the  room.  "What  do  you  call 
them.?"  I  asked  the  proprietor.  "XeXtSoVt,"  he 
answered,  and  the  Homeric  form  ^eXiStwz^  is  also 
used. 

We  took  a  morning  stroll  in  the  vale,  the  beauties 
of  which  grow  by  acquaintance.  The  whole  valley 
was  vocal  with  bird  songs.  For  a  long  distance 
the  road  is  lined  with  oaks  and  plane-trees,  whose 
trunks  form  a  wall  or  palisade,  their  roots  washed 
by  the  rushing  river,  which  sometimes  overflows  its 
banks.  Neither  here  nor  at  Larissa  could  I  see 
Homer's  silver-eddying  (apyvpoBiVT]^)  river.  It  was 
freighted  with  silt  or  clay,  and  in  Dakota  they 
would  have  called  it  the  "Little  Muddy." 

For  centuries  the  Vale  of  Tempe  has  been  famed 
for  its  beauty.  It  has  fairly  won  its  reputation. 
The  comparison  must  be  made  not  with  the  world 
as  we  know  it,  not  with  Chamouni  or  Zermatt  or 
the  great  canons  in  the  Rockies  and  Sierras  of  our 
own  land,  but  with  other  parts  of  Greece.  Compared 
especially  with  Attica,  the  Vale  of  Tempe  must 
have  furnished  a  contrast  then  as  now  delightful  to 
the  traveller.  It  is  said  that  Pompey,  fleeing  through 
the  vale  after  his  defeat  at  Pharsalus,  drank,  at  the 
end  of  a  forty-mile  ride,  of  the  waters  of  the 
Peneius. 

We  returned  to  Larissa  for  the  night,  and  the 
next  morning  started  for  Meteora  and  the  mid-air 
monasteries.     To  do  this   we   were   obliged   to   go 


THESSALY  325 

south  by  rail  clear  to  Velestino,  and  thence  north- 
west, over  another  leg  of  the  triangle,  instead  of 
journeying  across  its  base  from  Larissa  to  Trikkala. 
We  passed  Pharsalus,  which  Leake  thinks  must  be 
regarded  as  the  home  of  Achilles,  but  firmer  historic 
fame  is  found  here  in  the  battlefield  of  Caesar  and 
Pompey.  Sheep  were  feeding  on  the  great  plain 
where  the  battle  was  held,  not  dreaming  of  being 
startled  soon  by  Greek  and  Turkish  musketry.  In 
the  clear  atmosphere  Olympus,  fifty  miles  away,  did 
not  seem  half  so  far,  and  still  maintained  its  impos- 
ing pre-eminence. 

Phanari  is  rocky  enough  for  the  Homeric  Ithome 
with  which  its  site  is  identified.  The  village  slopes 
to  the  plain  where  horses,  cows  and  sheep  were  peace- 
fully grazing. 

Trikkala  is  the  second  largest  town  in  Thessaly. 
More  picturesque  is  Kalabaka,  at  the  western  end 
of  the  road  under  the  shadows  of  the  great  cliffs  of 
Meteora.  These  cliffs  are  unlike  any  other  forma- 
tion in  Greece.  In  our  own  northwest  they  would 
be  called  buttes.  They  are  groups  of  pillared  peaks, 
rising  perpendicularly  in  lofty  isolation  on  the 
plain.  Seen  from  a  distance,  one  of  these  groups 
might  be  taken  for  a  vast  cathedral  with  towers  and 
turrets.  Another  group  rises  in  detached  pinnacles 
on  the  slope  of  the  foothills.  Upon  this  curious 
assemblage  of  peaks  were  built  in  the  fourteenth 
century  the  famous  Meteora  ("mid-air")  monas- 
teries, originally  twenty-four  in  number.  It  seems 
a  curious  adventure  for  religion  to  isolate  itself  on 
these  lofty  and  almost  inaccessible  solitudes.  But 
for  the  monks   of  those  turbulent  times  a  mid-air 


326         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

monastery  served  as  a  fortification  as  well  as  a 
temple.  It  protected  them  not  only  from  the  temp- 
tations of  the  world,  but  from  the  flesh  and  the  devil 
in  the  shape  of  robbers  and  marauders.  Of  the 
twenty-four,  but  seven  are  now  inhabited;  the  ruins 
of  the  others,  like  deserted  eyries,  crown  these  stern 
heights.  As  we  stood  under  some  of  these  perpen- 
dicular pinnacles  the  wonder  was  not  merely  that 
monasteries  could  be  built  upon  them,  but  that  any 
human  being  could  have  scaled  them  to  begin  with. 

Procuring  a  local  guide,  we  made  our  way  to  the 
foot  of  the  Monastery  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  There 
are  two  methods  of  ascent  to  several  of  these  monas- 
teries; one  is  by  a  rope-ladder  with  wooden  rungs 
let  down  over  the  side  of  the  cliff;  the  other  is  by 
means  of  a  net,  rope  and  windlass.  We  wished  to 
try  both  methods,  but  as  the  windlass  and  rope  were 
out  of  order,  we  were  obliged  to  climb  by  the  rope- 
ladder.  Ascending  first  a  flight  of  stairs  of  no  diffi- 
culty, we  passed  along  a  narrow  walk  cut  in  the  side 
of  the  cliff,  the  perils  of  which  were  only  partly 
reduced  by  a  rickety  hand-railing.  It  showed  us 
how  much  protection  was  needed  and  how  little  it 
could  furnish.  After  winding  round  and  up  the 
cliff  a  considerable  distance,  we  reached  a  ladder 
enclosed  in  a  box  hanging  over  the  side  of  a  cliff, 
and,  ascending  it,  emerged  into  the  monastery 
through  a  trap-door. 

The  view  from  the  top  was  magnificent.  Grand 
rocks  rose  on  the  other  side  of  the  chasm  and  grander 
mountains  beyond.  Red-roofed  Kalabaka  lay  below, 
while  through  the  plain  wound  the  Peneius,  more 
worthy  of  the  silver  speech  into  which  Homer  had 


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THESSALY  327 

coined  it.  We  had  seen  it  rushing  through  the 
narrow  defile  at  Tempe,  but  here  it  leisurely  un- 
coils its  length  in  an  ample  bed  on  the  plain.  In 
the  clear  air  above,  an  eagle  was  slowly  circling, 
its  wings  almost  motionless,  as  if  deciding  which  of 
these  deserted  monasteries  it  would  choose  for  its 
nest.  The  ten  monks  in  the  monastery  were  courte- 
ous and  hospitable.  When  we  saw  the  frayed-out 
rope  and  the  "general  flavor  of  mild  decay"  sug- 
gested by  the  windlass,  —  not,  like  wine,  the  better 
for  age,  — we  felt  that  here,  at  least,  the  ladder  was 
the  lesser  risk. 

Descending  the  same  way,  we  started  for  the  Mon- 
astery of  Saint  Stephen,  which  stands  much  higher. 
By  an  easy  bridle-path  we  climbed  to  the  top  of  a 
cliff  separated  from  that  on  which  Saint  Stephen 
stands  by  a  deep  abyss,  spanned  by  a  wooden  draw- 
bridge. When  robbers  and  brigands  threatened 
the  monastery  the  monks  raised  the  drawbridge  and 
rested  in  security.  It  was  only  after  repeated  knock- 
ings  that  we  managed  to  make  ourselves  heard.  An 
attendant  opened  the  door  and  conducted  us  through 
a  courtyard  and  upstairs  into  the  reception-room  of 
the  Archimandrite  Constantius,  who  received  us 
warmly.  Then  we  were  shown  to  our  rooms.  We 
succeeded  in  getting  a  basin  of  water  to  wash  in, 
but  when  I  asked  for  a  towel,  the  attendant  smiled 
at  such  worldliness,  and  said  they  used  towels  in  the 
village  but  not  in  the  monastery.  He  informed  me 
that  there  were  ten  monks,  who  employed  forty-five 
workmen,  some  in  the  monastery  and  some  on  their 
farms  below.  I  can  easily  believe  that  there  were 
fifteen  cats,  for  I  saw  eight.     The  servants  set  before 


328         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

US  a  supper  of  brown  bread,  fried  eggs,  cheese  and 
wine.  If  these  monks  live  high,  it  is  not  in  their 
diet.  After  supper  we  took  a  walk  round  the  cliff, 
and  had  a  superb  view  of  the  Thessalian  plain  be- 
low, with  the  winding  Peneius,  the  solemn  gigantic 
masses  of  Meteora,  and  the  lofty,  snow-capped  range 
of  Pindus  beyond.  The  abbot  and  the  servant  were 
communicative  and  not  too  high  in  the  air  to  be 
remote  from  Greek  politics.  On  these  eagle  cliffs 
nothing  disturbed  our  rest,  and  Basil  was  not  there 
to  wake  me  for  a  daybreak  service. 

After  a  frugal  breakfast,  —  it  would  not  have 
been  possible  to  get  anything  else,  — we  descended 
the  cliff  for  a  short  distance,  then  made  a  sharp 
ascent,  and  skirted  the  edge  of  a  deep  ravine,  where 
we  had  a  fine  view  of  the  picturesque  fantastic  buttes 
which  lay  between  us  and  the  plain.  Though  we 
had  left  our  heaviest  bag  at  the  railroad  station,  we 
still  had  too  much  to  carry  for  a  warm  day;  but  the 
view  repaid  every  sacrifice.  Reaching  at  length  the 
base  of  a  cliff  nearly  two  hundred  feet  high,  upon 
which  is  perched  the  Monastery  of  Saint  Barlaam, 
v/e  shouted  vigorously,  until  by  and  by  a  monk's 
head  appeared  at  a  window  above.  An  attendant 
who  looked  small  enough  for  a  spider  emerged  from 
a  hole  in  the  cliff  and  descended  spider-like  on  a 
long  hanging  ladder.  He  was  not  encumbered  with 
much  clothing,  nor  was  he  a  devotee  of  soap;  but 
when  he  learned  that  we  were  Americans,  he  was 
cordiality  itself.  We  had  had  one  experience  with 
a  ladder ;  we  wanted  now  to  try  the  net.  The  young 
man  shouted  to  the  monks  above,  and  presently  the 
rope  descended  with  a  heavy  net  on  the  hook.     The 


THESSALY  329 


young  man  spread  the  net  upon  the  ground.  Pro- 
fessor Tarbell  courageously  offered  to  try  the  ex- 
periment first.  Accordingly,  as  directed,  he  sat 
cross-legged  in  the  net.  The  meshes  were  drawn 
round  him  and  fastened  in  the  hook  at  the  end 
of  the  rope.  "EroifjLa,  "ready,"  shouted  the  Greek, 
and  the  monks  above  bent  to  the  windlass  and 
slowly  lifted  their  catch.  In  spite  of  his  con- 
strained position,  when  he  left  the  ground  my  friend 
preserved  a  semblance  of  humanity;  but  when  he 
had  gone  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  he  seemed  noth- 
ing but  a  suspended  meal -bag,  and  I  snapped  my 
kodak  at  him  with  twinkling  success.  I  appeal  to 
the  reader,  who  may  trace  the  rope  and  the  bag  in 
the  illustration,   if  this  judgment  is  harsh. 

It  was  my  turn  next.  I  felt  something  like  a  con- 
demned criminal  as  I  saw  the  rope  and  net  descend. 
We  are  creatures  of  association.  As  a  boy,  I  used 
to  take  in  my  hands  the  hook  of  a  hoistway  chain  and 
swing  back  and  forth  from  a  platform  thirty  or  forty 
feet  from  the  ground;  the  exhilaration  disguised  the 
danger.  Thousands  of  people  every  year  ascend  the 
Pilatus  railroad  or  the  cable  road  at  Murren,  or  go 
to  the  top  of  the  Washington  Monument  in  an  ele- 
vator, or  sleep  on  a  railway  train  at  the  rate  of  fifty 
miles  an  hour.  One  soon  becomes  accustomed  to 
experiences  which  are  made  safe  simply  because 
they  are  so  dangerous.  But  to  be  bagged  in  a  net, 
and  drawn  up  on  the  outside  of  a  cliff  by  a  rope  and 
windlass,  rising  as  slowly  and  ignominiously  as  if 
you  were  a  bale  of  merchandise,  had  in  it  elements 
of  novelty,  uncertainty,  and  unaccustomed  danger. 
The  most  trying  perils  are  those  which  lack  excite- 


330         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

ment.  From  experience  I  know  that  to  join  a 
cavalry  charge  is  one  of  the  most  dramatic  and 
exciting  things  in  the  world,  and  therefore  requires 
but  a  small  amount  of  courage;  but  to  be  suspended 
for  four  minutes  in  mid-air  in  a  net  affords  unusual 
opportunity  for  reflection.  A  consciousness  of  your 
utter  helplessness  and  the  ridiculousness  of  your 
position  alternates  with  speculations  on  the  strength 
of  the  rope  and  the  perfection  of  the  windlass.  I 
found,  however,  my  courage  slowly  rising  with  the 
net.  An  advantage  of  ascending  by  net  instead  of 
by  ladder  is  that  the  beautiful  scenery  opens  grad- 
ually before  you  as  you  rise.  A  critical  time  is 
when  you  reach  the  top  and  hang  poised  for  a  few 
seconds  opposite  the  door  of  the  monastery.  Two 
monks  put  out  their  hands  at  each  side,  and  shout- 
ing "ETOLfia  to  those  at  the  windlass,  pull  you  in 
and  land  you  in  a  heap  on  the  floor. 

The  Monastery  of  Saint  Barlaam  takes  its  name 
either  from  the  saint  of  the  fourteenth  century  or 
some  hermit  named  after  him.  We  had  but  time  for 
a  rapid  view  of  the  church.  Tozer  speaks  enthusi- 
astically of  the  Byzantine  frescos  and  of  the  artistic 
grouping  of  one  of  the  representations  of  the  Virgin. 
Think  of  the  sanctity  of  a  monastery  which  no 
woman  has  ever  entered !  I  can  imagine  what  an 
exorcism,  not  of  evil  spirits,  but  of  evil  matter  —  the 
dirt  of  centuries  —  a  few  women  from  Broek  might 
effect  with  their  mops  and  brooms.  We  found  but 
six  monks  and  ten  servants.  All  supplies  had  to  be 
drawn  up  by  the  rope,  for  which  there  is  a  separate 
hoistway.  The  monastery  bell  was  cracked.  Con- 
sidering the  position  of  the  church,  one  could  not 


THESSALY  331 

expect  a  very  large  number  of  church-goers,  even  if 
the  bell  had  been  sound.  I  saw  here  for  the  first 
time  the  semantron.  This  is  a  large  plank  suspended 
in  the  air  and  struck  with  a  piece  of  iron.  It  is 
used  in  Lent  instead  of  the  bell.  Its  use  is  ex- 
tremely ancient,  and  in  Byzantine  churches  and 
monasteries  long  preceded  the  use  of  the  bell. 

We  had  tested  the  strength  of  the  rope,  the  wind- 
lass and  the  muscle  of  the  monks.  There  was  but 
one  critical  moment  in  the  descent.  Into  that 
moment  seemed  to  be  condensed  half  the  peril  of 
the  adventure.  The  net  was  spread  on  the  floor 
near  the  hoistway  and  gathered  up  over  my  head 
and  fastened  in  the  hook,  as  before.  Then  there 
was  a  half  turn  at  the  windlass  and  I  was  pushed 
out  from  the  landing.  I  felt  the  net  settle  and  its 
cords  become  taut.  It  was  literally  a  moment  of 
suspense.  My  companions  taunted  me  with  the 
uncertainty  of  my  position  and  wished  they  could 
photograph  my  expression.  Fortunately,  I  had  left 
my  kodak  below.  The  single  moment  was  longer 
than  the  rest  of  the  four  minutes,  which  were  com- 
paratively agreeable.  There  was  no  need  of  dis- 
trusting the  net.  It  was  strong  and  big  enough  to 
hold  two  people.  The  monks  do  not  like  to  haul  up 
two  men  at  once,  but  it  is  easier  to  let  them  down, 
and  Professor  Tarbell  and  Mr.  Roddy  descended 
together.  Just  how  they  managed  to  braid  their 
legs  and  arms  I  do  not  know,  but  they  brought 
them  all  down  with  them  and  were  safely  disen- 
tangled at  the  bottom. 

Wordsworth  not  inaptly  called  these  monks  fishers 
of   men.      Insulated    in   their    lofty  solitudes,   they 


332         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

illustrated  a  strange  conception  of  religion  and  life 
as  remote  from  that  of  Homeric  times  or  from  the 
religion  which  built  the  Parthenon  as  it  is  from 
apostolic  Christianity  or  the  advanced  spirit  of  our 
own  age. 


VII 

ISLANDS  OF  THE  ^GEAN 


EUBCEA 
I 

AN  INTERNATIONAL   FUNERAL 

I  WAS  sitting  in  my  room  in  Athens,  reading  a 
Greek  newspaper  with  the  social  desperation  of  a 
man  who  two  days  before  had  said  good-bye  for  the 
winter  to  his  wife  and  children.  A  light  knock  at  the 
door  interrupted  this  inconsequential  reading.  It  is 
a  question  for  critics  whether  Beethoven  did  or  did 
not  mean,  in  his  famous  introduction  to  the  Fifth 
Symphony,  to  describe  **  Fate  knocking  at  the  door." 
The  rap  of  Fate  does  not  always  come  with  unvarying 
rhythm  and  authority.  Fate  is  not  always  stern,  cold 
or  cruel,  but  may  be  gently  insistent  and  kindly  in- 
evitable. The  sternest  events  in  life  often  come  to 
us  through  the  mildest  announcements.  How  many 
times  had  I  heard  just  such  a  low  knock  at  my 
door  at  home,  with  its  summons  to  sympathy  and 
ministration !  I  had  travelled  more  than  once  five 
hundred  miles  to  answer  it.  I  did  not  expect  to  hear 
it  in  Greece  or  imagine  that  it  would  mean  a  journey 
almost  as  long.  When  I  had  thought  of  going  to 
Euboea,  it  was  to  see  the  supposed  tomb  of  Aristotle 
and  the  theatre  of  Eretria.  I  did  not  think  of  going 
to  a  new-made  grave. 

More  than  fifty  years  ago  a  French  gentleman  of 
fortune.  Baron  Mimont,  bought  a  large  estate  in  the 


336         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

northern  part  of  Eubcea.  He  counted  it  part  of  his 
pleasure  in  life  to  spend  some  months  there  every 
year.  He  had  done  much  to  develop  and  beautify  it. 
It  had  become  another  home  to  him,  hardly  second 
in  his  affections  to  his  beloved  France.  He  was  sud- 
denly overtaken  by  sickness,  and  his  two  sons  were 
summoned  from  Paris.  They  came  as  fast  as  train 
and  steamer  and  one  day  of  quarantine  would  per- 
mit, but  the  death  angel  moved  faster,  and  when 
they  reached  Athens  they  received  tidings  of  their 
father's  death.  It  was  a  friendly  guide  conduct- 
ing these  two  gentlemen  who  had  knocked  at  my 
door.  They  explained  that  their  father  was  a  devout 
French  Protestant;  he  had  wished  to  be  buried  in 
his  beloved  Eubcea.  There  was  not  a  Protestant 
minister  on  the  island ;  would  I,  an  American,  go 
with  them  and  conduct  the  service?  In  such  an  hour 
language,  distance,  nationality,  all  give  way  to  frater- 
nity. These  gentlemen  immediately  won  my  interest, 
respect  and  brotherly  sympathy.  Their  request 
meant  a  round  trip  by  water  of  over  four  hundred 
miles,  two  possible  fits  of  seasickness,  —  both  of 
which  were  realized, —  the  absence  of  three  and  a 
half  days  from  Athens,  and  the  interruption  of  regu- 
lar work.  But  it  did  not  take  me  three  minutes  to 
answer  ''  Yes." 

It  was  then  three  o'clock.  It  was  arranged  that 
Messieurs  Mimont  should  call  two  hours  later  and 
we  should  drive  to  the  Piraeus  together.  I  packed 
my  bag,  wrote  a  few  cards  postponing  engagements, 
called  on  Dr.  Manatt,  the  United  States  Consul, 
who  held  all  Americans  in  Athens  in  his  fraternal 
and  patriotic  keeping,  and   at   half-past  five  was  in 


ISLANDS   OF  THE  ^GEAN  337 

the  carriage  on  my  way  to  the  Piraeus,  a  five-mile 
drive  from  Athens.  There  we  were  joined  by  a  cap- 
tain of  the  French  army  attached  to  the  Legation  at 
Athens,  who  in  the  unavoidable  absence  of  the  Minis- 
ter represented  the  French  Republic. 

There  was  premonitory  mischief  in  the  fresh  breeze. 
It  soon  became  fairly  wicked  in  its  sport  with  the  sea, 
until  it  had  aroused  that  sensitive  element  into  ungov- 
ernable fury.  The  waves  rioted  in  the  Saronic  Gulf. 
It  was  a  relief  to  get  into  the  strait  the  next  day, 
where  the  wind  had  little  scope  for  its  exercise. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when,  after 
stopping  at  Karystos,  Alivari,  and  Chalcis,  we  reached 
the  village  of  Aidipsos  in  the  northern  part  of  the 
island.  Seven  saddle  horses  (three  for  attendants) 
and  a  wagon  for  the  luggage  awaited  us.  We 
mounted  and  rode  for  half  an  hour  to  a  point  where 
the  roads  were  smooth  enough  for  carriages.  From 
the  attendants  we  learned  the  particulars  of  the  death 
of  Baron  Mimont.  An  hour  later  we  reached  the 
chateau  in  Xerochori.  A  few  soldiers  were  in  the 
yard.  In  the  house  were  the  demarch,  the  chief  of 
police,  various  local  officials,  and  the  village  priest. 
On  the  death  of  Baron  Mimont  the  morning  before, 
the  safe  had  been  sealed  and  various  official  pre- 
cautions taken  for  the  security  of  property.  There 
was  an  exchange  of  formalities  and  the  reading  of 
documents  to  discharge  the  town  from  responsibility. 
Then  the  officials  shook  hands  with  us  all  and  bowed 
themselves  out. 

Baron  Mimont's  extensive  property  of  I  know  not 
how  many  thousands  of  acres,  yields  large  returns 
of  grapes,  olives,   grain,  tobacco    and   other   crops. 


338         THE  ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

To  work  it  a  large  force  of  Greek  laborers  was  nec- 
essary. So  there  had  grown  up  on  the  estate  two 
little  villages,  St.  Jean  and  St.  Theodore,  with  forty- 
five  families  housed  in  stone  cottages,  and  a  small 
Greek  church  whose  priest  was  also  teacher.  Many 
of  these  families  had  been  reared  on  the  place  and 
looked  to  Monsieur  Mimont  as  their  friend  and  pro- 
tector as  well  as  employer.  To  them  the  death  of 
their  venerable  patron  was  a  personal  bereavement. 
It  was  therefore  arranged  to  have  one  service  in  the 
death-chamber  in  the  homestead  for  the  family  and 
near  friends,  and  one  at  the  grave  to  which  all  might 
come. 

I  have  held  funeral  services  under  circumstances 
both  peculiar  and  tragic,  but  this  one  lay  far  out  of 
the  range  of  all  previous  experience.  The  sons  had 
been  trained  to  English  from  infancy,  but  were  the 
only  ones  present  who  understood  that  tongue.  The 
housekeeper,  the  intendant  and  some  of  the  village 
officials  understood  French.  The  priest  and  his  flock 
knew  only  Greek.  The  situation  was  certainly  pecu- 
liar: the  funeral  of  a  French  Protestant  in  a  Greek 
community,  on  Greek  soil,  conducted  by  an  American. 
I  went  to  the  service  with  a  French  Bible,  an  English 
Bible,  and  the  New  Testament  in  the  old  Greek. 

The  service  in  the  upper  room  was  simple.  The 
two  brothers, —  the  only  survivors  in  the  family, — the 
attach^  oi  the  French  Legation  in  brilliant  uniform, 
the  gendarme  also  in  full  uniform,  the  village  priest, 
the  faithful  maid,  the  mayor  of  Xerochori  and  a  few 
others  were  in  the  chamber.  A  selection  from  the 
Psalms  in  English  was  followed  by  a  selection  from  the 
New  Testament  in  French,  and  a  prayer  in  English. 


ISLANDS   OF  THE  yEGEAN  339 

The  casket  was  then  carried  out  and  the  funeral 
procession  formed.  Two  Greeks  bearing  Hghted 
candles  led  the  way,  the  candles  burning  pale  in  the 
brilliant  sun.  The  gendarme  followed,  bearing  a 
cushion  on  which  was  a  symbol  of  authority;  four 
soldiers  marched  behind  him;  and  four  Greeks 
dressed  in  their  native  costume  —  the  short  white 
skirt,  ox  fiistanella  —  bore  the  casket.  The  two  chief 
mourners  followed ;  and  then  the  French  captain  and 
myself.  Behind  us  were  the  Greek  priest,  the  de- 
march,  and  a  long  procession  of  men,  women  and 
children  from  the  villages.  There  was  no  music, 
no  cadence  step,  and  no  wailing,  save  the  sobs  of 
the  faithful  housekeeper.  I  had  seen  Greek  funerals 
before,  and  the  sight  from  the  standpoint  of  spectator 
would  not  have  seemed  strange ;  but  to  be  moving 
in  the  procession  to  conduct  the  service  was  an  un- 
usual and  memorable  experience. 

Monsieur  Mimont  was  a  lover  of  trees.  He  had 
planted  many  of  varied  hue  and  habit  with  his  own 
hands,  —  trees  not  found  elsewhere  on  the  island.  In 
a  beautiful  grove,  at  the  end  of  a  gentle  slope,  not  far 
from  the  calm  waters  of  the  bay,  he  had  chosen  the 
place  for  his  grave.  One  could  hardly  dream  of  a 
more  beautiful  spot.  I  shall  never  forget  the  lovely 
panorama  that  lay  before  us  as  we  slowly  marched 
down  the  knoll.  In  the  foreground  were  plane- 
trees,  poplars,  weeping-willows,  fig-trees  and  olives,  — 
some  of  bright  green,  some  of  dark  green,  and  others 
of  yellow  leafage,  spreading  over  the  wide  slope 
which  gently  descended  to  the  calm  blue  bay.  Here 
were  peace  and  beauty.  Across  the  gulf  was  the 
eternal  grandeur  of  the  mountains.     There  rose  Par- 


340         THE  ISLES  AND  SHRINES  OF  GREECE 

nassus  eight  thousand  feet  above  the  sea ;  its  peaks, 
whitened  with  snow,  loomed  up  amid  a  grand  chorus 
of  dark  hills.  There  were  the  snow-capped  ridges  of 
Olympus,  nearly  ten  thousand  feet  high.  The  deep 
Bay  of  Volo  opened  at  the  north  at  the  foot  of 
Pelion.  Calm,  beautiful,  grand  was  the  scene  in  this 
soft  air  lighted  by  the  brilliant  sun  and  with  a  white 
cortege  of  clouds  in  the  blue  sky. 

The  casket  was  lowered  to  its  resting-place.  The 
crowd  became  hushed  as  I  read  a  few  passages  in 
English  from  the  New  Testament  followed  by  the 
Twenty  Third  Psalm  in  French.  I  could  not  bear  the 
thought  that  these  Greeks  should  be  left  out  of  my 
ministration  and  listen  to  a  service  which  was  wholly 
unintelligible ;  so  I  had  risen  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning  and  had  written  out  and  committed  a  brief 
and  simple  address  in  modern  Greek,  which  connected 
some  selections  from  the  Greek  New  Testament:  — 

"  God  is  good,  and  we  are  all  his  children.  Saint 
Paul,  when  he  spoke  upon  the  Areopagus,  said,  *  God 
hath  made  of  one  blood  all  the  nations  of  the  earth.' 
To-day  there  are  representatives  here  of  three  na- 
tions. We  are  Greeks,  French  and  American;  but 
we  are  all  brothers."  (There  were  nods  of  assent.) 
"  We  speak  three  languages  —  Greek,  French,  Eng- 
lish; but  there  is  only  one  language  of  the  heart. 
The  language  of  the  heart  is  the  language  of  love; 
and  Saint  Paul  has  said,  *  Though  I  speak  with  the 
tongues  of  men  and  of  angels,  and  have  not  love, 
I  am  become  as  sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cym- 
bal.' "  Selections  in  Greek  from  the  rest  of  that 
beautiful  chapter,  the  Thirteenth  of  First  Corinthians, 
followed.     Returning  thanks  to  the  friends  and   the 


ISLANDS  OF  THE  .EGEAN  34 1 

faithful  servant,  I  concluded  my  part  of  the  service 
with  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  Greek. 

The  sweet-faced  priest  then  swung  his  censer  over 
the  grave,  and  recited  a  few  passages  from  the  Greek 
service  for  the  dead,  another  priest  at  the  other  end 
of  the  grave  gave  the  responses,  and  the  people 
joined  in  the  benedictions.  It  was  a  brief  service, 
but  cheerful  and  triumphant  in  its  tone.  As  we 
moved  away  from  the  grave  slowly  but  without  for- 
mality, I  took  the  arm  of  the  lovable  priest  and  asked 
him  in  Greek  if  he  understood  what  I  had  read. 
Md\i<TTa  ("  certainly.")  Then  opening  his  liturgy 
he  showed  me  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  the  same  Greek, 
turned  a  few  pages  to  the  exquisite  Corinthian  chap- 
ter, and  putting  his  finger  on  the  closing  verse  — 
•  And  now  abideth  faith,  hope,  love,  but  the  greatest 
of  these  is  love,'  —  said,  'Upalov^  oypalov,  "  Beautiful, 
beautiful." 

Then  I  felt  that  the  barrier  of  language  had  indeed 
been  broken  down  and  that  priest  and  people  had 
felt  with  me  the  ties  of  brotherhood  and  human 
sympathy  which  bound  us  all  together.  It  was  sig- 
nificant that  the  three  nations  there  represented, — 
Greece,  France,  and  America,  —  had  all  stood  for 
liberty,  equality ,  fraternity .  And  it  was  deeply  inter- 
esting that  the  great  apostle  in  his  famous  chapter 
to  the  Greeks  of  Corinth  and  in  his  address  to  the 
Athenians  on  the  Areopagus  had  furnished  in  the 
Greek  tongue  a  bond  of  sentiment  and  union  which 
made  us  feel  at  that  grave  that  God  had  made  of 
one  blood  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  that  hope 
and  faith,  and  above  all  love,  are  the  supreme  things 
in  the  world. 


II 

ERETRIA 

My  second  visit  to  Eubcea  was  made  some  months 
later,  on  the  "  Inselreise  "  with  Dr.  Dorpfeld. 

Eretria,  which  Hes  on  the  west  coast  of  Eubcea,  has 
a  special  interest  for  Americans  because  it  was  ex- 
cavated a  few  years  ago  by  the  American  School. 
The  site  of  the  theatre  had  been  determined  before 
by  the  depression  in  the  earth  which  suggested  the 
auditorium,  but  the  plan  and  architectural  history 
were  first  revealed  by  American  spades. 

The  theatre  at  Eretria  has  this  peculiarity :  it  was 
built  on  a  plain  instead  of  on  a  hill.  The  orchestra 
had  therefore  to  be  sunk  in  the  ground ;  and  it  is  pos- 
sible that  an  amphitheatre  of  wooden  seats  was  erected 
for  the  spectators.  Afterward,  however,  the  people  of 
Eretria  were  not  satisfied  with  a  temporary  wooden 
auditorium  and  made  an  artificial  hill.  The  labor 
and  expense  of  throwing  up  and  moving  the  earth 
must  have  been  very  great.  The  orchestra  was 
therefore  put  down  as  deep  as  possible.  Why  the 
founders  did  not  choose  a  hillside  to  start  with,  I  do 
not  know,  unless  it  be  that  some  specially  sacred 
associations  were  connected  with  this  place.  The 
theatre  passed  through  three  stages  of  architectural 
development.  There  are  two  puzzling  peculiarities. 
One  is  the  existence  of  an  underground  passage,  big 
enough  for  a  man  to  pass  through,  from  the  orchestra 


ISLANDS   OF  THE  .EGEAN  343 

to  the  dressing-room,  that  may  have  served  for  the 
introduction  of  a  ghost  or  for  any  mysterious  disap- 
pearance. The  other  feature  is  an  arched  passage- 
way on  the  level  of  the  orchestra,  and  leading  by  a 
flight  of  stairs  to  a  point  behind  the  sketie. 

From  the  theatre  we  ascended  to  what  was  once 
the  acropolis,  guided  by  the  remains  of  the  walls  by 
which  it  was  protected.  You  can  follow  the  ruined 
wall,  strengthened  here  and  there  by  towers,  down 
the  hill  and  into  the  bay,  running  out  to  a  little 
island  and  enclosing  a  portion  of  the  harbor.  It  is 
possible  that  these  walls  existed  before  the  Persian 
War,  490  B.  C. ;  but  they  did  not  prevent  the  Per- 
sians from  taking  and  sacking  the  town.  From  the 
acropolis  we  had  a  fine  view  of  the  mountains  of 
Euboea. 

It  was  not  far  from  Eretria  that  Dr.  Waldstein  dis- 
covered, in  1 891,  what  was  somewhat  prematurely 
heralded  by  the  press  as  the  tomb  of  Aristotle  or 
some  member  of  his  family.  The  tradition  is,  how- 
ever, that  the  philosopher  was  buried  at  Chalcis,  and 
not  at  Eretria. 


THE   CYCLADES 

If  you  look  at  the  map  of  Greece^  you  will  see 
that  the  Attic  peninsula  and  the  island  of  Eubcea 
lie  parallel  to  one  another,  and  that  each  has  a 
string  of  islands  dangling  from  its  southern  extremity. 
Originally,  no  doubt,  they  all  belonged  to  the  con- 
tinent. A  few  islands  at  the  end  of  each  string  serve 
to  join  them  in  a  loop  or  chain.  They  form  a  sort 
of  geographic  federation.  Their  old  Greek  name  has 
clung  to  them,  and  nothing  better  could  be  found. 

JEg'ma.  is  not  one  of  the  Cyclades,  but  it  was  on  a 
trip  through  the  Greek  archipelago  extending  to  Asia 
Minor  that  I  first  set  foot  on  this  isle  whose  name, 
mentioned  in  the  Homeric  catalogue  and  shared  by 
the  gulf  in  which  it  lies,  has  come  down  to  us  through 
the  mists  of  antiquity.  It  has  an  area  of  only  thirty- 
two  square  miles,  and  about  seven  thousand  inhabit- 
ants. The  one  monument  of  its  past  that  allured  us 
was  the  old  temple  of  Athene.  We  dropped  anchor, 
disembarked,  and  climbed  by  a  rough  pathway  along 
the  edge  of  a  grain  field  and  over  stony  debris  to  the 
site  of  this  temple,  which  is  one  of  the  oldest  and  best 
preserved  examples  of  the  Doric  style.  About  twenty 
of  the  columns  are  standing.  The  plan  is  easily  traced, 
and  its  early  origin  is  seen  in  the  simple  form  of  the 
capital.  The  floor  was  covered  with  cement,  and 
traces  of  paint  are  clearly  seen  on  it.  The  vigorous 
and  animated  sculptures  which  adorned  the  pediment, 


ISLANDS   OF  THE  .EGEAN  345 

representing  combats  between  Trojans  and  ^Eginetan 
heroes,  are  now  in  the  Glyptothek  at  Munich,  still 
wearing  that  patent  "  ^ginetan  smile." 

The  view  from  ^Egina  is  fine.  Athens,  its  ancient 
rival,  lies  across  the  gulf,  and  you  can  even  see  the 
King's  Garden.  Pentelicus,  Hymettus,  the  mountains 
near  Eleusis  and  Megara  to  the  north,  and  the  moun- 
tains of  the  Peloponnesus  to  the  west  loom  up.  Salamis 
lies  to  the  north  and  Poros  to  the  south. 

Leaving  the  Saronic  Gulf  we  sail  into  the  Island- 
studded  sea.  Under  the  shelter  of  Sunium  lies 
Makronisi,  the  ancient  Helene,  seven  miles  long  and 
three  wide,  an  uninhabited  pasturage,  with  no  monu- 
ments. Its  only  title  to  fame  is  the  tradition  that 
Helen  once  landed  there.  On  the  other  hand  Ceos, 
thirteen  miles  from  Sunium,  is  rich  in  association 
and  interest.  The  merchant  goes  there  for  valonea, 
figs  or  wine,  the  antiquarian  to  see  its  famous  lion, 
sculptured  like  that  of  Lucerne  in  the  living  rock, 
and  the  literary  pilgrim  to  see  the  birthplace  of 
Simonides,  Bacchylides,  and  Prodicus.  A  fresh  inter- 
est is  awakened  in  this  isle  by  the  welcome  discovery 
in  Egypt  of  the  manuscript  containing  the  poems  of 
Bacchylides.  It  is  as  if  the  poet  had  strung  his  lyre 
afresh  and  given  to  the  world  sweet  harmonies  of 
which  before  only  single  notes  or  broken  chords  had 
sounded  in  the  ear.  Andros,  the  most  northerly  of 
the  Cyclades,  is  really  but  a  prolongation  of  Euboea, 
from  which  it  is  separated  by  a  narrow  strait,  and 
Tenos  is  but  an  extension  of  Andros.  Naxos  is  the 
largest  of  the  group,  with  twenty-two  thousand  inhab- 
itants. West  of  it  is  Paros,  renowned  for  quarries 
from  whose  beautiful  marble  were  summoned  immor- 


346         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

tal  works  of  art.  There  are  twenty-five  islands  of  the 
^gean  belonging  to  Greece,  some  of  them  barren 
and  uninhabited,  others  fruitful  and  populous.  Geo- 
graphically the  centre  of  the  group  is  Syros  or  Syra, 
with  its  spacious  harbor  round  which  is  built  pros- 
perous Hermopolis.  While  other  islands  are  living 
on  their  antiquity,  Syra  is  one  of  the  most  active  and 
thriving  ports  in  Greece. 

But  on  this  island  trip  we  were  not  looking  for  the 
largest  jewels  on  the  chain.  We  were  seeking  the 
real  gem  of  the  Cyclades.  It  is  an  island  so  small 
that  on  a  Baedeker  map  it  is  only  large  enough  to  be 
visible.  It  has  no  commerce  and  literally  no  popula- 
tion. Few  make  pilgrimages  to  this  island  to-day; 
but  what  throngs  came  here  once  to  worship !  And 
what  money,  time,  labor  and  skill  were  needed  to 
rear  the  temples,  halls  and  treasure-houses,  and  to 
chisel  the  statues  which  glorified  Delos,  the  holy 
island  of  Greece !  The  entire  island  was  a  shrine 
hallowed  as  the  birthplace  of  Apollo  and  Artemis. 
Here  the  worship  of  Apollo  was  observed  with  great 
fervor,  —  not  as  a  local  cult,  but  as  the  chief  shrine 
of  thousands  of  Ionian  worshippers.  Nowhere  save  at 
Olympia  have  I  been  so  impressed  with  the  number  of 
buildings  devoted  to  the  service  of  the  gods.  Here 
was  the  great  temple  of  Apollo,  the  famous  Horn 
Altar  to  the  same  god,  the  Hall  of  the  Bulls,  the 
temple  of  Leto,  the  temple  of  Artemis,  and  one 
devoted  to  the  worship  of  Egyptian  divinities.  An 
imposing  colonnade  surrounded  the  agora,  and  among 
the  host  of  statues  was  the  great  one  dedicated  to 
Apollo,  whose  colossal  base  still  stands  bearing  a 
legible  inscription :   "  From  the  same  stone  am  I  and 


ISLANDS   OF  THE  yEGEAN  347 

the  base,"  meaning  probably  that  base  and  statue 
were  both  made  of  Naxos  marble.  The  statue,  which 
was  one  of  the  oldest  works  of  Greek  sculpture,  dating 
back  to  the  sixth  century  before  Christ,  exists  only  in 
scattered  fragments,  which  it  is  not  likely  that  any 
resurrection  of  art  will  summon  together.  The  im- 
mense block  on  which  it  stood  preserves  its  integrity 
and  bears  the  imprint  of  the  colossal  foot. 

To  the  French  School  at  Athens,  under  the  intel- 
ligent direction  of  Monsieur  Homolle,  belongs  the 
credit  of  conducting  the  fruitful  excavations  which 
give  us  some  idea  of  what  Delos  was  at  the  height  of 
its  fame  and  glory.  Of  the  great  temple  of  Apollo 
only  the  foundation  and  some  of  the  ornaments  exist. 
Near  by  are  the  foundations  of  an  earlier  one,  probably 
dedicated  to  the  same  divinity  at  a  time  when  Delos 
was  under  the  political  power  of  Athens.  We  thought 
we  discerned  the  skilful  hand  of  the  Attic  workman  in 
the  steps,  the  columns,  and  the  ornaments  of  this  build- 
ing which  may  have  been  built  about  450  or  430  be- 
fore Christ.  This  temple  is  described  by  the  French 
as  oriented  toward  the  west;  but  Dorpfeld  suggests 
that  a  small  hall  which  would  form  a  pronaos  was 
probably  overlooked.  This  would  make  it  face  to 
the  east,  as  most  Greek  temples  do. 

Two  of  the  wonders  of  the  world  were  on  this 
little  island, —  one  the  Horn  Altar  to  Apollo,  and  the 
other  the  Hall  of  the  Bulls.  The  latter  was  a  build- 
ing some  220  feet  long  and  29  feet  wide,  where  the 
animals  to  be  sacrificed  were  brought.  The  capitals 
of  the  Doric  pilasters  which  supported  the  long  hall 
were  adorned  with  beautifully  cut  bulls'  heads,  from 
which  the   building   takes    its    modern    name.     The 


348         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

foundations  are  well  preserved,  and  near  by  were 
some  of  the  capitals  and  triglyphs  of  clean  white 
marble,  seemingly  as  fresh  and  unstained  as  when 
they  were  first  cut. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  ask  whether  the  ancient  Greek 
was  a  church-goer.  These  beautiful  temples  were  not 
built  for  the  passer-by  alone.  In  the  propylaea  of  the 
holy  precinct  there  is  a  threshold  which  has  been 
worn  down  in  a  remarkable  way  by  the  thousands  of 
reverent  feet  that  entered  the  hallowed  place. 

The  arrangement  of  the  theatre,  which  is  about  as 
large  as  that  at  Athens,  can  be  well  distinguished. 
The  ample  auditorium  is  supported  on  each  side  by 
great  walls.  A  small  canal,  like  that  at  Megalopolis, 
bounds  the  orchestra.  Before  the  proskeniony  which 
was  of  the  same  height  as  in  other  theatres,  were 
placed  statues  whose  bases  are  preserved.  The  pre- 
sence of  these  statues  excludes  the  possibility  of  the 
proskejtiofi  having  been  used  to  support  a  stage,  as 
the  statues  would  have  been  so  high  as  to  interfere 
with  the  view  of  the  spectators.^ 

Climbing  the  steps  of  the  theatre,  we  reach  above 
the  terraces  the  grotto  of  Apollo.  A  natural  opening 
in  the  rocks  has  been  widened  and  roofed  over  with 
heavy  stones.  The  grotto  is  not  deep  and  dark  like 
that  at  Delphi.  It  is  only  a  few  yards  in  depth,  and 
light  comes  in  from  an  opening  behind.  This  is  pro- 
bably the  oldest  site  of  the  worship  of  Apollo  on  the 
island.  In  front  of  it  stands  a  circular  marble  base, 
which  may  have  borne  a  tripod. 

1  For  an  interesting  study  of  this  theatre  see  Le  Theatre  de  Delos 
et  la  Scene  du  Theatre  Grec,  Bulletin  de  Correspondance  Hellenique, 
by  Dr.  Wilhelm  Dorpfeld  (1897),  p.  562. 


ISLANDS   OF  THE  ^GEA  349 

But  more  imposing  than  grotto  or  tripod,  and  ris- 
ing behind  them,  is  the  summit  of  Mount  Kynthos, 
affording  a  commanding  and  delightful  view  of  most 
of  the  Cyclades.  To  the  north  lies  Tenos,  unwooded 
and  irregularly  cut;  to  the  northeast  Mykonos,  with 
its  high  hills.  Near  at  hand  is  a  mere  stretch  of  rock, 
almost  a  bridge  between  Delos  and  Mykonos.  Far 
away  to  the  northeast  that  faint  blue  cloud  on  the 
horizon  is  Samos.  To  the  south  lie  Naxos  and  Paros; 
and  further  to  the  southwest,  Siphnos  and  Seriphos. 
To  the  west  are  Rhenea,  or  Great  Delos,  beyond  it 
Syra,  and  to  the  northwest  Gyaros.  By  turning  on 
your  heel  you  can  see  most  of  the  links  in  this  island 
chain.  The  sea  is  blue  and  calm,  and  these  islets  are 
as  quiet  as  if  they  were  brooding  over  the  long  history 
of  the  past. 

The  ancient  fertility  of  Delos  and  its  luxuriant 
growths  are  suggested  in  the  only  reference  to  the 
isle  which  we  find  in  the  Odyssey.  When  Odysseus 
is  supplicating  the  aid  of  Nausicaa,  he  compares  the 
tall  beautiful  princess  to  the  young  palm  he  had  seen 
at  Delos :  "  At  Delos  once,  by  Apollo's  altar,  some- 
thing like  you  I  noticed,  a  young  palm-shoot  spring- 
ing up ;  for  thither  too  I  came,  and  a  great  troop  was 
with  me,  upon  a  journey  where  I  was  to  meet  with 
bitter  trials.  And  just  as  when  I  looked  on  that  I  mar- 
velled long  within,  since  never  before  sprang  such  a 
shoot  from  earth ;  so,  lady,  I  admire  and  marvel  now 
at  you,  and  greatly  fear  to  touch  your  knees."  I  did 
not  find  the  palm  near  the  altar  of  Apollo,  but  I  had 
a  surprise  which  was  quite  equal  to  that  felt  by 
Odysseus.  I  shall  never  forget  the  display  of  color 
which  astounded  me,  when  in  search  of  a  good  place 


350         THE   ISLES   AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

for  a  swim,  I  walked  to  the  south  of  the  island. 
Jumping  over  a  stone  wall,  I  landed  in  a  field  of 
flowers  which  in  abundance  and  brilliancy  excelled 
anything  I  have  ever  seen.  I  remember  coming  un- 
expectedly upon  a  lovely  park  in  the  Black  Hills 
where  Nature  had  wrought  a  similar  miracle,  but  with 
no  such  brilliancy  of  color  as  fairly  dazzled  the  eye  at 
Delos.  Poppies  and  anemones  of  glowing  red  were 
massed  with  nameless  yellows  and  purples  in  prodigal 
profusion.  If  I  could  have  towed  this  island  into 
Boston  Harbor,  thousands  of  people  would  have 
gone  to  see  this  floral  show;  here  in  the  Mgean 
Sea  only  a  few  shepherds  know  of  its  existence.  But 
"  Beauty  is  its  own  excuse  for  being."  Such  a  sym- 
phony in  color  tells  of  Nature's  own  delight  in  the 
revolving  panorama  of  existence;  and  in  this  won- 
derful flower-bed  there  seemed  to  be  the  joy  without 
the  tragedy. 

We  went  to  Delos  to  see  what  is  left  of  some  of  the 
wonders  of  the  world.  That  night  we  sailed  to  Samos 
to  see  another.  Samos,  like  Crete,  ought  to  be  on  the 
map  of  Greece,  but  both  are  on  the  map  of  Turkey. 
When  we  sailed  into  the  harbor  of  the  capital  which, 
like  the  modern  town  of  Ithaca,  is  called  Vathy,  the 
rain  was  descending  as  if  celebrating  the  anniversary 
of  the  flood.  But  instead  of  forty  days  it  was  content 
to  fall  forty  minutes.  Then  it  slackened  its  zeal,  and 
permitted  us  to  set  our  feet  for  the  first  time  on 
Turkish  soil.  Samos  is  famous  for  its  wine ;  and  I 
have  a  list  of  the  Boston  ladies  who  went  back  to  the 
ship  with  large  bottles  of  it  under  their  cloaks,  and  I 
can  furnish  the  name  of  the  so-called  temperance  man 
who  used  his  Greek  to  negotiate  the  purchase.    How- 


ISLANDS   OF  THE  .EGEAN  35 1 

ever,  we  had  come  not  to  inspect  the  wine-works,  but 
the  famous  water-works  which  Herodotus  describes. 

A  short  trip  round  the  other  side  of  the  island 
gave  us  a  view  of  the  Asiatic  shore  with  lofty  Mykale, 
the  mountain  monument  of  the  Persian  naval  defeat, 
and  brought  us  to  the  old  village  of  Tigarni.  An 
hour's  walk,  and  we  reached  the  hillside  opening  of 
the  famous  aqueduct.  Lighting  candles  we  entered  a 
hole  about  four  feet  high  and  just  large  enough  to 
admit  one  person.  Fifty  feet  farther  it  widened  into 
a  capacious  tunnel,  some  eight  feet  high  and  as  many 
broad,  with  a  small  channel  on  the  side  for  the  water. 
Herodotus  tells  us  that  the  excavation  was  made  from 
both  ends,  and  that  the  workmen  met  in  the  middle. 
The  source  of  the  water  was  at  a  high  point  on  the 
mountain,  so  that  the  tunnel  penetrated  for  a  great 
distance  into  the  mountain's  heart.  Just  why  this 
vast  subterranean  aqueduct  was  made,  when  the 
water  might  have  been  conducted  on  the  outside  of 
the  mountain,  it  is  not  easy  to  explain,  except  on 
the  supposition  that  it  was  for  greater  protection  in 
time  of  war  and  that  the  sources  were  carefully  con- 
cealed. 

After  an  hour's  walk  from  the  tunnel  we  reached 
the  ruins  of  the  great  temple  of  Hera,  one  of  the 
largest  ever  built.  Its  breadth  'was  equal  to  the 
length  of  the  Zeus  temple  at  Olympia,  210  feet;  its 
exact  length  cannot  be  determined,  because  it  has 
not  been  sufficiently  excavated.  Only  one  vast  Ionic 
column  is  left  to  give  some  idea  of  the  height  of  this 
imposing  building. 

At  night  we  reversed  our  course  and  anchored  in 
the  morning  at  Mykonos,  opposite  Delos,  where  the 


352         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

portable  art  treasures  found  in  the  excavations  at  the 
latter  place  are  kept.  The  town  is  pleasantly  situated 
on  the  hillside.  The  houses  are  white  and  surrounded 
with  courts  and  gardens.  Stone  walls  run  in  all 
directions  over  the  slope.  There  are  many  indica- 
tions of  thrift.  One  seldom  sees  a  cleaner,  whiter- 
looking  Greek  village.  The  streets  wind  picturesquely, 
and  a  fine  road  runs  up  the  hill  into  the  country.  We 
walked  into  an  old  palace  garden,  where  the  grounds 
are  still  well  kept,  though  it  is  no  longer  used  as  a 
palace.  There  is  an  archaeological  hospital  filled  with 
broken  legs,  hands,  arms  and  heads,  but  with  some 
interesting  fragments  and  well-preserved  inscriptions. 
It  is  melancholy  to  think  of  the  havoc  that  time  and 
vandalism  have  made  with  the  treasures  of  art ;  but 
an  enthusiastic  archaeologist  can  go  into  raptures  over 
a  head  or  a  foot  as  an  anatomist  can  wax  eloquent 
over  a  single  bone. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  rounded 
Sunium  and  found  the  smoother  water  on  the  west 
side  of  the  Attic  peninsula;  but  it  was  not  too  late  to 
have  a  view  of  the  temple  of  Athene  on  this  command- 
ing headland.  The  Acropolis  and  the  Parthenon  were 
shrouded  in  darkness  as  we  sailed  up  to  the  Piraeus, 
but  we  knew  they  were  there. 


VIII 
TROY 


23 


TROY 


MARCHING  ON  TROY 


Circumstances  over  which  I  had  no  control  pre- 
vented me  from  being  at  the  first  siege  of  Troy; 
circumstances  within  my  control  kindly  permitted 
me  to  be  at  the  last.  I  did  not,  like  Odysseus,  make 
all  manner  of  excuses  and  use  every  artifice  to  avoid 
going.  I  was  too  anxious  to  get  there.  I  did  not 
go  in  a  wooden  horse,  —  and  it  is  yet  impossible  to 
go  all  the  way  with  an  iron  one.  The  vessel  that 
bore  me  is  not  numbered  in  the  Homeric  catalogue 
of  ships,  and  I  am  not  named  among  the  heroes.  I 
must,  therefore,  in  this  Post-Iliad  catalogue  my  own 
adventures. 

Unlike  Achilles,  Ajax,  Agamemnon,  and  Menelaus, 
I  started  for  Troy  alone.  The  rendezvous  of  the 
attacking  party  was  not  at  Aulis,  but  on  the  acropolis 
of  Troy  itself 

I  sailed  away  from  Piraeus  just  before  sunset,  with 
the  sad  consciousness  that  I  was  saying  good-by  to 
the  "  violet-crowned  "  city  which  had  been  my  home 
for  six  months.  The  sunlight  fell  softly  on  Hymet- 
tus  and  lingered  fondly  over  the  Acropolis,  "  with 
long,  reluctant,  amorous  delay."  The  sun  and  the 
steamer  were  moving  away  from  each  other;  the 
Parthenon  soon  faded  out  of  sight,  and  Athens  was 
gone. 


356         THE  ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

When  I  set  foot  on  Asia  Minor,  it  was  at  Smyrna. 
It  was  fitting  to  land  there  before  going  to  Troy; 
for,  of  the  seven  cities  which  disputed  Homer's  birth, 
did  not  the  weight  of  tradition  favor  Smyrna?  Think 
of  a  city  tracing  its  importance  back  several  hundred 
years  before  Christ,  and  yet  remaining  to-day  one  of 
the  chief  commercial  cities  of  Asia  Minor,  —  living  on 
its  trade,  not  on  its  traditions.  It  has  been  shattered 
by  earthquake  and  devastated  by  fire,  but  new  cities 
have  repeatedly  grown  on  the  foundations  of  the 
old,  and  few  have  a  more  beautiful  site.  It  nes- 
tles confidently  on  the  plain  by  the  seaside,  but  rises, 
too,  tier  on  tier,  on  the  hill  overlooking  its  sheltered 
gulf.  The  notable  buildings,  which  in  ancient  times 
gave  it  celebrity,  are  gone;  but  archaeologists  have 
delved  among  the  ruins.  Of  a  population  of  two 
hundred  thousand,  fully  half  are  Greeks.  Thus  there 
are  almost  as  many  Greeks  at  Smyrna  as  at  Athens. 
Athens  has  become  European ;  at  Smyrna  Orientalism 
is  still  predominant.  As  you  enter  its  great  bazaars, 
see  camels  lurching  through  the  streets,  and  meet 
Turks  and  Greeks  in  Oriental  costume,  you  feel  that 
you  are  in  a  different  zone  of  life  and  tradition. 

The  next  day  brought  me  to  the  Dardanelles.  I 
had  the  satisfaction  of  meeting  here  Messrs.  Korte, 
Prager,  Strack,  and  Noach,  four  German  archaeolog- 
ical students,  devoted  friends  of  Dr.  Dorpfeld,  with 
whom  I  had  before  shared  the  joys  and  hardships 
of  the  Peloponnesian  trip  and  the  island  excursion. 
We  organized  a  cavalcade  to  move  on  Troy. 

We  spent  the  night  at  the  Dardanelles,  and  next 
day  crossed  the  famous  strait,  took  horses  and  set  out 
for  the  plains  of  Troy.    It  was  a  ride  of  several  hours, 


TROY  357 

much  of  it  in  full  view  of  the  Hellespont.  We  passed 
caravans  of  camels,  six  sturdy  oxen  yoked  together 
ploughing  the  fertile  fields,  and  a  procession  of  sixty 
Turks  on  horseback  returning  from  a  fair  or  fete. 
Halting  for  a  brief  rest  in  a  Turkish  village,  late  in 
the  afternoon  we  galloped  up  to  Hissarlik  with  as 
much  ardor  as  if  we  had  come  to  save  the  day  for  the 
Greeks.  We  were  three  thousand  years  too  late;  the 
Wooden  Horse  had  got  there  ahead  of  us. 

We  were  cordially  received  at  Schliemannville,  as 
the  little  group  of  huts  which  sheltered  Dr.  Dorpfeld 
and  his  associates  was  called.  Though  these  huts  had 
not  the  grandeur  of  the  palace  of  Priam,  they  prob- 
ably afforded  much  better  accommodations  than  the 
Greeks  had  on  the  plain  below.  If  we  did  not  find 
Agamemnon  or  Menelaus,  Priam,  or  Paris,  Odysseus 
or  ^neas,  we  found  Dr.  Dorpfeld,  Dr.  Wolters,  Mr. 
Wilberg,  and  a  few  others,  helping  to  direct  the  large 
force  of  men  employed  in  the  excavations.  Not  by 
dart,  spear,  sword  or  arrow  was  the  modern  siege 
conducted,  but  by  pick  and  shovel ;  and  the  wheeled 
chariots  were  not  those  of  Achilles  or  Diomedes,  but 
hand-cars  which  were  carrying  off  the  debris. 

II 

THE   MODERN   SIEGE 

It  was  Schliemann  who  began  the  modern  siege 
of  Troy.  How  he  was  laughed  at  for  making  the 
attempt !  As  if  there  were  anything  in  Homer  but 
pure  fiction!  His  faith,  enthusiasm  and  persever- 
ance were  based  on  a  settled  consciousness  of 
historic  elements  in  Homer.     In  spite  of  the  wonder- 


358         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

ful  imaginative  drapery  in  which  the  Homeric  story 
was  invested,  Schhemann  could  feel  the  force  and 
pressure  of  the  reality  beneath.  Perhaps  if  he  had 
been  more  critical  and  less  trustful,  he  would  not 
have  felt  it;  but  he  believed  that  a  real  Troy,  just  as 
a  real  Greece,  was  the  foundation  of  the  story  of  the 
Iliad.  So,  in  his  ardent  faith  he  went  to  the  spot 
where  tradition  said  that  Troy  used  to  be.  With 
indomitable  perseverance,  Schliemann  began  with  his 
spade  to  uncover  the  city.  His  discoveries  were  at 
first  ridiculed.  Then  people  began  to  smile  another 
way  when  he  brought  forth  the  treasures  he  had  un- 
earthed, the  relics  of  a  prehistoric  age.  Afterward, 
when  he  had  published  his  two  books  on  Troy,  the  great 
value  of  his  find  was  recognized  by  archaeologists ; 
but  it  was  said,  and  said  rightly,  that  the  civilization 
of  the  Troy  he  had  found  did  not  correspond  with  the 
Troy  described  in  Homer.  Schliemann  had  gone 
further  back  into  the  past  than  he  had  known.  He 
had  dug  down  clear  below  the  foundation  of  the 
Homeric  Troy  into  still  older  strata. 

The  excavations  at  Tiryns  and  Mycenae  threw  a 
search-light  upon  the  Homeric  age.  If  the  relation 
of  the  Epic  with  the  Mycenaean  age  cannot  be  estab- 
lished in  all  points,  we  can  at  least  see  the  identit}' 
of  the  outline  and  the  historic  connection.  The 
material  of  the  Mycenaean  age  thus  furnished  crite- 
ria with  which  to  determine  the  relative  age  of  the 
discoveries  at  Troy.  We  were  compelled  to  face  the 
fact  that  the  civilization  indicated  by  the  vases,  orna- 
ments and  pottery  which  were  found  in  the  second 
city  must  have  been  centuries  older  than  that  of  the 
Mycenaean  age. 


TROY  359 

In  1890  Dr.  Schliemann  returned  to  Troy  with  Dr. 
Dorpfeld  and  renewed  excavations.  Instead  of  the 
seven  cities,  first  assumed  by  SchHemann,  nine  were 
distinguished.  In  the  sixth  city,  counting  from  the 
bottom,  were  found  Mycenaean  masonry  and  pottery. 
Only  a  small  portion  of  the  sixth  stratum  was  uncov- 
ered ;  part  of  it  had  been  removed  in  digging  to  the 
lowest  stratum,  but  still  more  was  destroyed  by  the 
Roman  Ilium,  the  ninth  city,  whose  foundations  had 
been  set  far  down  in  the  sixth  city  below.  The  death 
of  Dr.  Schliemann  put  a  stop  to  excavations,  on  the 
very  threshold  of  new  discovery.  Mrs.  Schliemann 
was  devoted  to  her  husband  during  his  life.  She  had 
shared  his  faith,  his  labors,  and  his  rewards.  She 
alone  was  present  with  him  when  they  uncovered  the 
Great  Treasure  in  the  second  city  of  Troy.  What 
better  way  to  perpetuate  his  memory  than  to  com- 
plete his  work  at  Troy?  Through  her  generosity, 
supplemented  by  that  of  the  German  Government, 
the  excavations  were  renewed  under  the  direction  ot 
Dr.  Dorpfeld  in  the  spring  of  1893.  It  was  in  June 
of  that  year  that  I  joined  Dr.  Dorpfeld  at  Hissarlik. 

Schliemann  had  dug  deeply ;  the  new  task  was  to 
dig  widely,  to  uncover  laterally  the  stratum  of  the 
sixth  city,  and  see  how  far  this  outcropping  of  Myce- 
naean masonry  would  lead.  The  work  had  already 
been  in  progress  for  two  weeks  when  I  arrived  on 
the  ground,  and  was  able  to  see  it  carried  to  most 
important  and   fascinating  results. 

My  first  impression  at  Hissarlik  was  that  of  utter 
bewilderment.  Though  used  by  this  time  to  the 
general  aspect  of  excavations,  I  had  never  seen  any 


36o         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

in  which  the  strata  seemed  at  first  so  hopelessly 
mixed.  The  problem  at  Olympia  was  comparatively 
simple ;  all  the  buildings  were  essentially  on  the  same 
level.  But  here  at  Troy  city  after  city  had  been  built 
on  different  levels,  the  foundation  stones  of  one  com- 
mingling with  the  walls  below.  They  seemed  to  be 
dovetailed  in  inextricable  confusion.  No  temples, 
colonnades  or  theatres,  as  at  Delos,  no  columns,  capi- 
tals, triglyphs  or  statues,  save  in  the  Graeco-Roman 
city  on  the  top,  gave  any  indication  of  former  beauty 
and  glory.  Hissarlik  seemed  but  a  curious  pile  of 
stones,  dust  and  ashes,  and,  had  I  been  alone,  half  a 
day  would  have  sated  my  curiosity, —  and  the  puzzle 
would  have  been  unsolved.  After  four  days  of  study 
under  Dr.  Dorpfeld's  guidance,  with  fresh  daily  reve- 
lations by  industrious  spades,  the  confusion  became 
less  confounded,  the  different  strata  became  more 
familiar,  and  what  seemed  to  be  unmistakably  the 
Homeric  city  gradually  took  shape  and  definition. 

The  general  situation  of  Hissarhk  furnishes  topo- 
graphically the  essential  conditions  suggested  by  the 
Iliad.  It  is  not,  like  Tiryns,  an  island  in  the  plain ; 
it  is  rather  the  end  of  a  long  ridge  projected  upon 
the  plain  and  capable  of  being  strongly  fortified. 
In  the  broad  valley  below  we  may  trace  the  channel 
of  two  rivers,  one  to  the  right  and  another  to  the 
left.  The  island  of  Tenedos  lies  out  in  the  sea. 
Rivers,  like  politicians,  change  their  course.  I  have 
seen  the  Upper  Missouri  make  a  new  channel  in  a 
few  weeks.  It  is  not  surprising,  then,  that  the  Sca- 
mander  and  its  tributary  the  Simois  should  have  left 
their  ancient  beds.  How  great  a  part  the  river  plays 
in  the  story  of  the  Iliad  is  seen   in  the  twenty-first 


TROY  361 

book,  when  Achilles  does  battle  not  only  with  the 
Trojans  at  the  Scamander,  but  with  the  river  itself. 
Objection  was  made  to  Hissarlik  as  the  site  of  Troy 
because  the  Scamander  is  not  where  one  might  expect 
it  to  be.  But  the  old  river-bed  is  there,  and  there 
are  signs  of  the  old  ford  and  of  the  point  where  the 
Simois  flowed  into  it,  corresponding  closely  with 
the  description  of  Homer.  When  the  Greeks  fight, 
the  battlefield  is  between  the  river  and  the  sea,  so 
that  when  the  Trojans  are  driven  back  they  must 
pass  through  the  ford  at  a  certain  place  or  else  be 
cut  off  by  the  river  behind  them.  The  plain  stretch- 
ing from  Hissarlik  to  the  sea,  with  the  ancient  river- 
bed, furnishes  just  such  conditions. 

Desirous  as  I  was  of  getting  a  good  general  idea 
of  the  whole  topography  of  the  Trojan  plain  and 
surrounding  hills,  I  was  glad  that  it  was  possible  to 
make  a  trip  to  Bounarbashi  and  back.  Our  party 
was  made  up  of  Dr.  Dorpfeld,  Dr.  Wolters,  a  quartet 
of  German  students,  the  Turkish  representative  at 
the  excavations,  a  Turkish  cavalryman,  an  attendant 
with  packhorse,  and  the  writer.  It  may  not  have 
been  Homeric  to  go  on  horseback ;  but  there  were 
no  chariots  that  could  possibly  go  where  we  were 
going.  We  set  out  in  the  fresh  cool  morning;  the 
wind  was  blowing  over  the  bending  grain,  which 
bowed  and  swayed  on  the  plain  just  as  it  does  in 
the  rhythmic  lines  of  the  epic.  In  less  than  an  hour 
from  Hissarlik  we  reached  Hanai-Tepeh,  an  artifi- 
cial mound,  explored  by  Mr.  Frank  Calvert  and  Dr. 
Schliemann  in  1878-79.  Mr.  Calvert  found  here  the 
remains  of  numerous  skeletons  which  had  been  care- 
fully interred.     Not  far  from  this  place,  however,  we 


362         THE  ISLES  AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

passed  the  site  of  a  great  crematory,  where  the  beds 
of  ashes  were  five  and  six  feet  deep,  with  occasional 
protruding  skulls  and  bones.  Here  the  Trojans  may 
have  burnt  their  dead. 

Our  next  point  was  Eski-Hissarlik  on  the  Scaman- 
der  opposite  Bounarbashi.  It  is  clear  that  the  divine 
river  which  had  such  a  mighty  tussle  with  Achilles, 
and  but  for  the  interference  of  Hephaestus  would 
have  engulfed  not  only  the  vulnerable  heel  of  his 
swift  foot  but  the  rest  of  his  divinely  descended  body, 
is  still  a  formidable  stream  when  its  pride  is  swollen. 
It  would  easily  have  been  able  to  carry  out  its  threat 
of  covering  the  Grecian  hero  with  such  a  pile  of  sand 
that  no  one  —  not  even  Schliemann  —  would  have 
known  where  to  find  his  body.  The  river  can  only 
be  crossed  at  certain  fords,  and  when  running  high 
only  by  boat.  As  we  forded  it  .the  water  was  up  to 
the  breasts  of  our  horses.  The  fine  view  which 
rewarded  us  from  Eski-Hissarlik  was  repeated  from 
the  height  of  Bounarbashi.  It  was  this  place  which 
Lechevalier,  who  visited  it  in  1785-86,  assumed  to  be 
the  site  of  the  old  acropolis  of  Troy.  Influenced 
doubtless  by  the  commanding  character  of  the  height 
and  its  great  value  from  a  military  standpoint,  von 
Moltke  and  others  accepted  this  view.  This  place 
with  the  hill  opposite  would  make  an  almost  impreg- 
nable position,  but  its  site  does  not  correspond  with 
that  of  the  city  described  in  Homer.  It  is  too  far 
from  the  sea, —  nearly  twelve  miles, —there  is  no 
plain  for  the  battlefield,  and  the  river  flows  directly 
under  the  city. 

From  the  summit  of  Ujek-Tepeh  the  whole  Trojan 
plain  and  the  ^gean  spread  out  like  a  map.     We 


TROY  363 

could  see  how  broad  the  plain  of  Troy  is,  and  what 
a  magnificent  theatre  the  poet  had  in  rendering  the 
battle  scenes  of  the  Iliad.  "  Fair-flowing,"  "  divine," 
"deep-flowing,  silver-eddying,"  Scamander  winds  be- 
low. The  broad  plain  ranges  to  the  north,  bound  by  the 
blue  ribbon  of  the  Hellespont.  Mount  Ida,  capped 
with  clouds,  rises  grandly  in  the  southeast ;  while  to  the 
south  in  the  ^gean  is  the  island  of  Lesbos,  nestling 
under  the  chin  of  the  Troad.  Westward  and  close 
to  the  shore  is  Tenedos,  which,  because  it  is  in  the 
beginning  of  the  Iliad  instead  of  at  the  end,  every 
schoolboy  knows  was  ruled  with  might  by  the  god  of 
the  silver  bow.  It  is  a  long  low  island  with  a  high 
headland  at  the  north. 

Beyond  the  island  of  Imbros  to  the  northwest  is 
the  bold  rugged  outline  of  Samothrace,  with  its  lofty 
mountain  rising  5,240  feet  above  the  sea.  It  was  here 
that  Poseidon,  "  the  mighty  Earth-shaker,  held  no 
blind  watch,  but  sat  and  marvelled  on  the  war  and 
strife,  high  on  the  topmost  crest  of  wooded  Samo- 
thrace ;  for  thence  all  Ida  was  plain  to  see,  and  plain 
to  see  were  the  city  of  Priam  and  the  ships  of  the 
Achaians."  It  was  no  blind  Homer  who  wrote  that 
passage,  and  he  did  not  invent  his  map.  Schliemann 
made  excavations  on  Ujek-Tepeh,  but  found  nothing 
of  importance. 

We  lunched  at  a  village  below  Bounarbashi.  The 
drum-beat  in  the  village  announced  a  Turkish  wed- 
ding, but  it  was  solemn  enough  for  a  funeral.  Cross- 
ing the  Scamander  again  at  another  ford,  and  later  a 
stout  arm  of  the  same  stream,  we  reached  Schliemann- 
ville  by  evening,  feeling  more  confidence  than  ever  in 
the  tradition  that  Hissarlik  was  the  site  of  the  Homeric 


364         THE  ISLES  AND   SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

Troy.  To  accept  that  tradition  is  to  settle  the  ques- 
tion laterally,  but  not  vertically.  Dickens  wrote  a 
tale  of  two  cities ;  Dorpfeld  was  deciphering  a  tale 
of  nine.     Which  of  them  was  the  Homeric  Troy? 

It  is  an  interesting  sight  to  see  forty  or  fifty  men 
working  hard  with  spades,  picks,  shovels  and  barrows, 
not  for  gold  and  silver  or  precious  stones,  —  though 
not  a  little  gold  has  been  found  at  Troy,  —  but  sim- 
ply in  mining  the  buried  ore  of  history.  The  hill 
has  been  cut  and  channelled  in  every  direction.  The 
only  inhabitants,  except  the  birds  that  light  here,  are 
lizards,  worms  and  crickets.  Two  Turkish  soldiers, 
armed  with  breech  loading  rifles,  guard  the  excava- 
tions. Most  of  the  workmen  are  Greeks,  dressed  in 
Turkish  blouse  and  trousers.  Without  the  slightest 
sentiment  about  Helen  they  are  repeating  the  victory 
of  their  fathers  in  recapturing  .the  city.  The  old 
Greeks  took  one  Ilios ;  the  modern  Greeks  are  tak- 
ing nine.  You  hear  the  clank  of  shovels  and  of 
picks  against  the  stone.  These  men  are  turning 
stones  into  bread.  They  get  two  francs  a  day  for 
about  eleven  hours'  work.  They  begin  at  five  in 
the  morning  and  quit  at  seven  at  night;  but  they 
have  a  rest  at  eight  o'clock,  and  three  hours  in  the 
afternoon  in  the  heat  of  the  day.  As  fast  as  it  is 
loosened  the  debris  is  carried  off  in  wheelbarrows 
and  hand-cars  and  dumped  on  the  plain.  As  it  is 
more  interesting  to  see  a  fire  burning  than  to  see 
the  charred  remains  after  it  is  over,  so  in  one  sense 
it  is  more  fascinating  to  see  the  work  of  excavation 
going  on,  and  to  take  a  hand  now  and  then  with  the 
shovel,  than  to  see  only  the  remains  of  former  dig- 
ging. At  Troy  we  had  the  stimulus  which  results 
may  give  to  expectation. 


TROY  365 

**  Who  knows,"  I  said  to  Dr.  Dorpfeld  one  morning 
as  we  were  sitting  at  breakfast,  "  but  we  may  find 
to-day  the  temple  to  which  Helen  went  to  bear  her 
offerings  to  Athene."  Up  to  that  time  no  building 
laid  bare  showed  any  traces  of  a  column,  though  foun- 
dations of  niegara  —  which  might  have  been  palaces  or 
temples  —  had  been  found.  It  was  singular  that  that 
very  morning,  on  the  stratum  of  the  Mycenaean  or  sixth 
city,  should  have  been  found  the  remains  of  a  column 
in  place,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  cut  the  marks 
where  other  columns  had  stood.  So  that  it  was  pos- 
sible by  the  next  day,  in  spite  of  all  that  had  been 
unfortunately  cut  away  in  previous  excavations,  to 
describe  the  plan  of  a  large  niegaron  which  was 
either  a  palace  or  a  temple. 

In  his  early  excavations  Schliemann,  as  already 
said,  distinguished  the  successive  strata  of  seven  differ- 
ent cities,  and  regarded  the  third  city,  the  '*  Burnt 
City,"  as  the  Homeric  Ilios.  The  latest  examina- 
tions show  that  not  only  are  there  nine  strata  of  as 
many  cities  on  the  hill  of  Hissarlik,  but  that  one  of 
these  has  been  rebuilt  thrice  on  the  original  levels, 
so  that  very  likely  a  dozen  different  cities  have  stood 
on  that  hill.  This  in  itself  proves  that  from  the 
remotest  time  successive  settlements  existed  on  this 
spot.  That  it  is  the  same  site  as  the  Roman  Ilium 
or  Novum  Ilium,  which  was  supposed  to  rest  on  the 
Homeric  Ilios,  can  hardly  be  doubted.  The  nine 
successive  strata  may  be  distinguished,  beginning  at 
the  bottom,   as  follows :  — 

I.  A  primitive  settlement  built  of  small  stones  and 
clay. 

II.  Primitive  fortress ;  large  brick  buildings,  much 


366         THE  ISLES   AND    SHRINES   OF   GREECE 

monochrome  pottery,  and  objects  of  bronze,  silver 
and  gold  found  by  Schliemann.  This  city  was  de- 
stroyed several  times. 

III.,  IV.,  V.  Three  successive  village  settlements 
built  on  the  ruins  of  the  second  city,  the  houses  of 
small  stones  and  sun  dried  brick,  the  villages  some- 
times with  fortified  walls. 

VI.  A  walled  city  with  fortress  and  towers  of  the 
Mycenaean  age,  great  buildings  of  dressed  stone,  and 
Mycenaean  and  local  pottery. 

VII.,  VIII.  Hellenic  village  settlements  on  the 
ruins  of  the  sixth  city. 

IX.  A  Graeco-Roman  city,  with  temple  of  Athene, 
Boule  and  marble  buildings. 

The  characteristics  of  these  cities  are  determined 
not  merely  from  their  masonry,  but  from  the  pottery 
and  implements  found  in  them.  In  the  first  prehis- 
toric city  the  pottery  was  of  primitive  character,  and 
the  idols  were  rude  and  barbaric. 

In  the  second  city,  the  gold  and  silver  objects  and 
monochrome  pottery  were  also  very  ancient.  The 
doorways,  the  fortress,  the  broad  paved  street,  and  the 
fact  that  this  city  met  the  fate  ascribed  to  Troy  and  was 
consumed  in  a  terrible  conflagration,  all  favored  Schlie- 
mann's  conclusion.  But,  as  already  said,  the  second 
city  was  too  old  for  the  Homeric  Troy  in  the  charac- 
ter of  its  civilization.  Furthermore,  it  was  a  city  of 
small  extent,  and  the  hill  at  that  level  was  too  low 
for  the  Trojan   acropolis. 

The  brilliant  result  of  the  excavations  of  1893  is 
the  essential  identification,  in  a  large  way  at  least,  of 
the  sixth  city  with  the  Mycenaean  period,  and  the 
finding  of  walls,  towers,  gateways,  palaces  and  pos- 


TROY  367 

sibly  a  temple  which  identify  it  at  once  with  the 
Homeric  age.  This  does  not  discount  any  of  the 
great  results  of  Schliemann's  work.  By  digging 
deep  he  revealed  to  us  a  civilization  far  more  prim- 
itive than  the  Homeric ;  while  Dorpfeld,  by  broaden- 
ing out  the  excavations  of  the  sixth  city,  has  uncovered 
the  Homeric  city,  and  given  us  an  acropolis  of  ample 
extent,  with  buildings  even  greater  in  size  than  those 
of  Tiryns  and  Mycenae.  The  area  of  this  sixth  city  was 
equal  to  that  of  Tiryns,  and  but  little  smaller  than 
that  of  Athens.  "  Without  any  hesitation,"  says 
Dr.  Dorpfeld,  "  we  may  now  draw  on  the  ruins  of  the 
sixth  city  of  Troy  when  we  have  to  describe  the 
buildings  and  culture  of  the  age  which  Homer  cele- 
brates." ^  As  Dr.  Dorpfeld  shows  in  the  same  work, 
the  descriptions,  and  very  often  the  special  language, 
of  Homer  exactly  fit  the  houses  of  Troy,  the  circuit 
wall  and  its  towers. 

The  infinite  pains,  skill  and  labor  by  which  these 
superimposed  cities  at  Troy  were  distinguished  can 
hardly  be  conceived  by  those  who  have  not  been  there. 
The  original  strata  were  not  all  perfectly  level,  and  ran 
up  and  down  so  that  the  walls  crossed  each  other. 
To  distinguish  the  Mycenaean  from  the  Roman  walls 
let  down  into  the  same  level  is  not  difficult  for  the 
expert.  Many  of  the  Roman  blocks,  of  which  there 
were  seventeen  layers,  were  marked  with  letters,  per- 
haps the  stone  mark  of  the  contractor. 

The  identification  of  the  Mycenaean  period  fur- 
nishes us  a  new  basis  for  estimating  the  age  of  the  sixth 
city  and  those  below  it.     Putting  the  Roman  Ilium 

1  Introduction  to  Mycenaean  Age,  by  Tsountas  and  Manatt 
Boston,  1897. 


368  THE   ISLES   AND    SHRINES    OF   GREECE 

at  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era,  we  may  date 
the  sixth  city  anywhere  from  one  thousand  to  fifteen 
hundred  years  before  Christ;  the  fifth,  fourth,  and 
third  cities  may  range  from  1500  to  2000  B.  c. ;  the 
second,  from  2000  to  2500  B.  C. ;  and  the  third,  from 
2500  to  3000  B.  C.  But  these  are  only  relative  and 
approximate  dates;  the  primitive  city  might  easily 
be  a  thousand  years  older. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  different  layers  of  history  as 
they  were  suggested  on  the  Acropolis  of  Athens. 
But  nowhere  can  one  pass  so  rapidly  from  one  age 
to  another  by  slight  changes  of  level  as  at  Troy. 
As  we  mounted  and  descended  through  the  different 
strata  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  going  up  and  down 
the  ladders  of  time.  How  young  seemed  the  Hellenic 
city,  with  its  beautiful  marble  capitals  and  columns, 
compared  with  the  primitive  villages  built  on  the 
basic  rock  below !  One  day,  as  we  were  digging  in 
the  third  or  fourth  city,  we  came  on  several  large  jars 
or  pitJioi  containing  about  a  bushel  of  peas.  They 
had  been  there  probably  four  thousand  years,  and 
still  preserved  their  form  without  their  vitality.  Some 
of  these  jars  found  at  different  levels  were  five  feet 
or  more  in  height.  They  were  set  in  the  ground,  as 
shown  in  the  illustration,  and  served  to  hold  grain  or 
wine.  But  in  some  cases  the  mice  had  gnawed 
through  and  devoured  their  contents. 

No  bricks  were  found  in  the  Mycensean  period,  and 
the  dressed  stones  are  peculiar  to  Troy.  I  have  lying 
before  me,  however,  a  piece  of  brick  which  came  out 
of  the  second  city.  It  was  originally  sun-dried,  but 
it  has  passed  through  a  terrible  fire.  The  outer  part, 
where  it  was  in  close  contact  with  wood,  has  been 


TROY  369 

melted  till  it  is  nothing  but  a  cinder.  What  was  the 
inner  part  still  retains  the  semblance  of  clay,  and  is 
friable.  Running  through  it  you  can  see  the  marks 
and  the  mould  of  the  straw  laid  into  it;  for  it  tells 
of  a  time  when  bricks  were  not  made  without  straw. 
After  the  Boston  fire  one  could  find  many  evidences 
of  the  terrible  heat,  but  no  piece  of  brick  just  like 
this.  When  this  brick  was  burned  neither  Chicago 
nor  Boston  was  known  or  thought  of;  the  Pilgrims  had 
not  landed  at  Plymouth ;  the  United  States  was  a  far- 
off  event;  Columbus  had  not  set  sail  for  the  new 
world;  the  art  of  printing  was  unknown;  neither 
England  nor  France  had  a  national  existence ; 
Mahomet  was  not  born;  Paris  had  not  been  made 
the  seat  of  the  Prankish  monarchy;  Italy  had  not 
been  conquered  by  Theodoric ;  Jesus  had  not  come, 
and  the  marvellous  results  of  his  life  were  undreamed 
of;  Julius  Caesar,  Pompey  and  Cicero,  Darius,  Plato, 
Socrates,  Sophocles  and  iEschylus  were  unborn.  I 
have  a  few  fragments  of  clear  charcoal  made  from 
the  beams  set  in  the  wall.  It  was  just  where  these 
beams  were  that  the  fire  raged  hottest  and  the  ad- 
jacent brick  was  almost  melted.  It  seems  remark- 
able that  the  delicate  piece  of  straw  laid  in  this  brick 
should  have  imprinted  on  the  clay  the  lines  of  the 
fibre  of  which  it  was  composed.  Think  of  a  wisp  of 
straw  leaving  its  signature  on  a  piece  of  brick  made 
four  thousand  years  ago !  In  a  burnt  wall  at  Troy, 
where  a  beam  had  lain,  a  knot  in  the  wood  was 
stamped  in  the  clay. 

The  full  results  of  the  final  excavations  of  Troy, 
which  I  shall  always  consider  it  a  rare  event  in  my  life 
to  have  witnessed,  will  not  be  known,  perhaps,  until 

24 


370         THE  ISLES  AND  SHRINES   OF  GREECE 

the  sources  and  relations  of  its  culture  have  been 
more  fully  established.  While  holding  that  the  sixth 
city  of  Troy  is  contemporaneous  with  Tiryns  and 
Mycenae,  and  noting  the  influence  of  Mycenaean  cul- 
ture as  seen  in  the  vases  (undoubtedly  imported)  of 
that  period,  Dr.  Dorpfeld  recognizes  the  difference 
between  the  culture  of  Troy  and  Mycenae.  The 
decoration  of  the  former  is  distinctly  simpler  than 
that  of  the  Argive  palaces.  It  was  left  to  Dr.  A. 
Korte  of  Bonn  to  show  that  the  predominant  culture 
at  Troy  was  Phrygian  with  points  of  contact  with 
the  Mycenaean. 

When  I  went  to  Troy  my  chief  fear  was  that  some 
of  the  poetry  of  the  Iliad  might  vanish  in  the  ruins 
of  Hissarlik.  There  are  scenes  which  are  beautiful 
in  the  glow  of  a  sunset  which  are  not  beautiful  in  the 
glare  of  noon.  I  was  not  sure  that  the  Homeric  Ilios 
could  stand  so  much  publicity.  And  if  my  concep- 
tion of  it  had  been  confined  to  that  of  the  second 
city,  I  should  have  felt  that  the  fact  fell  too  far 
below  the  poem.  But  the  uncovering  of  the  Myce- 
naean city,  with  its  great  walls,  towers  and  battlements, 
strengthened  the  sense  of  reality.  It  might  have 
been  on  just  such  a  tower  that  Helen  stood  looking 
over  the  plain  of  Troy  when  she  won  from  the 
Trojan  elders  the  greatest  compliment  ever  paid  to 
the  beauty  of  a  woman.  But  in  Troy,  as  in  Ithaca, 
site  and  scene  are  but  the  warp  and  woof  of  which 
the  immortal  picture  is  woven.  We  need  not  press 
the  correspondence  too  far  between  fact  and  fancy. 
Over  mountains,  islands,  sea  and  plain  the  poet  has 
spread  his  canvas,  and  Hke  a  beautiful  sunset  in  the 


TROY  371 

JEgean  has  suffused  the  scene  with  the  bright  glow 
of  his  imagination.  And  when  the  last  stone  of 
Troy  shall  have  crumbled  into  dust  the  unfading 
pictures  of  the  immortal  epic  will  remain.  With 
Alpheus  of  Mytelene  we  can  sin.g:  — 

^AvSpofxdx^s  €TL  Bpijvou  aKovofxev,  elaeTi  Tpoirjp 

dcpKOfj.eB'  cK  ^ddpcop  naaav  epenroixemjv 
Koi  fxodov  Aiuureiov,  vjro  (TTe<pdv]j  re  irdXrjos 

€k8€tov  e^  tmriov  "EKTopa  avpofievop, 
Maiovidem  fita  Movcrav,  ov  ov  fiia  narpls  alodou 

Koa-fielrai,  yairjs  d'  dfi(f)0Tepr}s  Kkifiara. 

Still  sad  Andromache's  low  wail  we  hear ; 

Still  see  all  Troy  from  her  foundations  fall : 
The  might  of  Ajax,  lifeless  Hector  bound 

And  ruthless  dragged  beneath  the  city's  wall  — 
This,  through  the  muse  of  Homer,  bard  renowned, 

Whose  fame  not  one  alone,  but  many  shores  revere. 


INDEX 


Abbess  of  Cephalonia,  50. 

Academic  Greek,  28. 

Academos,  grove  of,  126. 

Academy  of  Plato,  233,  255. 

Acarnania,  64. 

Achaians,  363. 

Achilles,  319  ;  home  of,  325,  355,  361, 
362. 

Acoustics  of  Greek  theatre,  142. 

Acro-Corinth,  271,  272. 

Acropolis,  1 01,  106,  116,  139,  154, 155, 
251,  253,  258,  272,  352,  355;  art 
treasures  of,  124  ;  before  Parthenon, 
93,  94;  Belvedere  on,  128;  bom- 
bardment of,  95  ;  bronzes,  120; 
Byzantine  chapel  on,  125;  circular 
dances,  153;  divinities  of,  120,  121  ; 
Dorpfeld  on,  226 ;  dweUing  place, 
118;  fortress  and  sanctuary,  126; 
grottoes  of,  124,  125  ;  Museum,  7, 
10,  89,  91,  113,  120,  121,  225  ;  not  a 
plateau,  119;  occupation  by  Turks, 
95 ;  portico  of,  107 ;  sacred  sites 
on,  114 ;  splendor  of  paganism,  201  ; 
statues  on,  118,  120;  temples  on, 
117,  124;  terra-cottas,  120. 

Acropolis,  daily  of  Athens,  163,  170, 
229. 

Acting  in  Greek  theatre,  144. 

Adeline,  Jules,  214. 

Adler,  291. 

Admetus,  319. 

Admiral  Tryon,  78. 

Advertisements,  Greek,  230,  231. 

iEgaleos,  from  Acropolis,  104. 

iEgean  Sea,  350,  363,  370. 


.Egina,  104,  156,  271,  344,  345. 

"  iEginetan  smile,"  258,  345. 

vEgis  of  Athene,  120. 

^neas,  357. 

Aenus,  Mt,  in  Cephalonia,  Z^- 

i^Lolus,  street  of,  156,  170. 

iEschines,  235. 

iEschylus,  58,  142,  143,  M9.  152,  I53. 

i54>  369- 
^sculapius,  sanctuary  of,  272  ;  street 

of,  167. 
iEsop's  Fables,  235. 
Aetos,  59,  62,  68. 
"  Against  Timarchus,"  235. 
Agamemnon,  318,  355,  357;  tomb  of, 

278  ;  trees  of,  300. 
Age  of  stones  used  in  building,  102. 
Agogiats,  283,  307,  308. 
Agora,    164,  167-177. 
Aidipsos,  337. 
Albanian    costume,    159 ;   mountains, 

16,  27. 
Alcestis,  319. 

AlcinoUs,  9,  16,  32-37,  278. 
Alexandria,  76. 
Alivari,  337. 
All  Saints'  Day,  29. 
Allinson,  Francis  G.,  ix.,  306. 
Alpheius,  284-293. 
Alpheus  of  Mytelene,  371. 
Altar  in  Greek  church,  216,  220;  of 

Zeus,  288,  292 ;   to  the  Unknown 

God,  127,  202. 
Altis,  288,  290,  292. 
Ambelakia,  famous    for    dyeing   and 

spinning,  323. 


374 


INDEX 


Ambrysus,  309. 

American  Archaeological  School,    114 

226,  227,   271,  279,  317;   Legation 

at  Athens,  165. 
"  American  School,  The,"  235. 
Amphiaraus,  255,  256. 
Amphictyony,  297. 
Amphorae,  133. 
Amvelonia,  285. 
Anagnos,  Michael,  ix. 
Anastosios  the  priest,  50. 
"  Ancient  and  Modern  Greece,"  7. 
Andros,  254,  345. 
Angel,  Hon,  ox,  and  eagle,  211. 
"  Animal  Symbolism  in  Ecclesiastical 

Architecture,"  214. 
Anthology,  136,  137,  232,  233. 
Antigone,  139,  146,  153. 
Apollo,  grotto  of,  124,  348;  hymn  to, 

301-306,  313  ;  neatherd,  319  ;  shrine 

to,  286,  346;  statue  of,  16S  ;  temple 

of,  251,  297,  301,  346. 
Apologists,  early  Christian,  204. 
Apollo's  altar,  349, 
Apostle  Paul.     See  Saint. 
Apostles,  symbols  of,  211. 
Aqueduct  of  Samos,  351. 
Arachnaeon,  Mount,  274. 
Arachova,  308. 
Aratus,  205. 
Arcadia,  80,  271. 

Arcadian  kings,  seat  of,  283  ;   moun- 
tains and  plains,  284,  285. 
Arch  of  Hadrian,  127,  227. 
Archaeological  Cavalry,  282-287. 
Archaeological  hospital,  352. 
Archaeologists,     discoveries      of      on 

Acropolis,   119,  120. 
Archaeology,      development      of,    7 ; 

interest    of,   8,    24;    study  of    in 

Greece,   6. 
Archbishops   of   Greek   Church,    164, 

218,  219. 
Archimandrite  Constantius,  327. 
Archimandrites,  186-188, 196,218. 
Architect,  inspection  of,  116. 
Architecture,  Christian,  201  ;   Greek, 

lOI. 

Architrave,  curvature  of,  100. 
Arena,  Roman,  150,  273. 


Areopagus  10,    104,   127,  164,    201, 

202,  205. 

Ares,  202. 

Arethusa,  spring  of,  67. 

Argolis,  271,  279. 

Argos,  7,  58,  279. 

Argos  the  faithful  dog,  58. 

Argostoli,  46,  48,  49,  54. 

Aristides,  apology  to  Hadrian,  204, 
205  ;  "the  rhetorician,"  233. 

Aristophanes,  126,  145,  154,  169,  176. 

Aristotle,  226,  227,  318,  335,  343. 

Arsakeion  in  Athens,  234. 

Art,  later  Greek,  120;  pre-Persian  120. 

Artemis,  94;  Brauronia,  112;  wor- 
ship of,  121,  346. 

Asia  Minor,  356. 

Asia  Minor,  theatres  in,  143. 

Asylum  of  St.  Catherine,  250. 

Atakos,  64. 

Athene,  33,  34,  55,  60,  61,  69,  94,  97, 
103,  135,  260 ;  aegis  of,  120,  121  ; 
as  Saint  Sophia,  210 ;  coin,  245,  246; 
colossal  statue  of,  101;  contest  with 
Poseidon,  114;  Corinthian  helmet, 
123;  Doric  chiton,  123  ;  early  repre- 
sentations of,  120-122;  Ergane, 
117  ;  girdle  of,  95  ;  guarding  a  stele, 
123 ;  holy  hill  of,  105,  112  ;  Homer's 
conception  of,  103;  Hygieia,  230; 
in  new  guise,  104  ;  influence  of,  103  ; 
mourning,  122  ;  Nike  temple  of,  97, 
113;  peplos  for,  237;  Polias,  117; 
Promachos,  118,  127;  statue  by 
Phidias,  103;  statues  given  to,  94, 

124,  261  ;  temples  to,  94,  124,  261, 
352,  365)  366;  types  of,  118,  120. 

Athenian     Mount    of    Olives,    127; 

newspapers,    yy,    163,     170,    229; 

Wall  Street,  170,    171. 
Athens,  6-10,  25,  58,  76,  89,  90,  118, 

125,  126,  283,  345 ;  Acropolis  of, 
107 ;  Christian  architecture,  201 ; 
citadel  of,  126;  cleanliness  of,  155; 
dances  at,  154;  Easter  in,  221, 
ecclesiastical  school,  218 ;  grave 
monuments,  135;  growth  of,  93; 
homes  in,  195-198  ;  in  Middle  Ages, 
155;  marriage  customs  in,  183- 
188 ;    Metropolitan    Church,    207 ; 


INDEX 


375 


morality  in,  198  ;  mountains  near, 
253 ;  museums  of,  7,  10,  89,  91, 
113,  120,  121,  125,  158,  226,  248, 
258;  old  and  new,  155,  157,  162, 
163,  225,  226;  Roman  monuments 
at,  127;  stelcE  zX,  129;  street  shows, 
178,  179;  streets  of,  156,  167,  171, 
172;  supremacy  of,  114,  129-135  ; 
theatres  of,  104,  139,  154. 

"  Athens  of  the  Middle  Ages,"  228. 

Athletics,  297. 

Athlothetes,  207. 

Attalus  II.,  167  ;  Stoa  of,  167. 

Attica,  317;  trees  in,  256  ;  wanderings 
in,  251. 

Attic  coins,  245,  246  ;  drama,  growth 
of,  149  ;  gravestones,  131, 132  ;  pen- 
insula, 260,  261 ;  shores,  254. 

Attic  Days,  223. 

"  Attic  Nights,"  223. 

Attic  workman,  347. 

Auditorium,  growth  of,  141. 

Aulis,  355. 

Aulis,  Bay  of,  318. 

Aulus  Gellius,  223,  227. 

Avga^  226. 

Bacchanals,  160. 

Bacchylides,  345. 

Baedeker,  60,  67,  286,  292,  346. 

Bakers,  168,  169,  173,  174. 

Baptism,  193,  194,  208,  280. 

Barber-shops,  231. 

Barnabas,  203. 

Baron  Mimont,  335. 

Baron  Sina  of  Vienna,  158. 

Basil,  309-312,  328. 

Bassae,  temple  of,  259,  285. 

Battlements  of  Troy,  370. 

Beams  of  Propylaea,  112. 

Beauty  in  Greek  religion,  206. 

Beethoven,  106,  137. 

Belvedere  on  Acropolis,  128. 

Betrothal,  186. 

Bicycles  in  Greece,  166,  200. 

Bikelas'  '•  Tales  of  the  iEgean,"  192, 

219. 
Birth,  192-194 ;  Fates  presiding  over, 

210. 
Bishop,  salary  of,  219. 


Black  Hills,  350. 

Boeotia,  271,  317,  318. 

Boston  fire,  369. 

Botticher,  Karl,  theory  of,  98. 

Boule,  debates  in,  164. 

Bouleuterion,  292. 

Boulevard  of  the  Academy,  173;  of  the 

University,  173. 
Bournabashi,  361,  362,  363, 
Bricks  with  straw,  369. 
Brindisi,  14,  15,  57. 
British     Archaeological    School,  226, 

280;  Museum,  frieze  in,  95,  96. 
Bronzes  on  Acropolis,  120. 
Bugle  calls,  241. 
Building,   mechanical    difficulties  of, 

109. 
Bulgarian  church,  218. 
"  Burnt  City,  The,"  365. 
Byron,  9,  95. 
Byzantine  age,  275  ;  art,  179;  chapel 

in  pagan  grotto,  125 ;  churches,  97, 

158,  206,    207,    293;   cupola,   277; 

supremacy,  4,  26. 
"  Byzantine  Art,"  205,  210. 

Calendar,  ancient  Greek,  207. 
Callicrates,  90. 
Calvert,  Frank,  361. 
Calypso,  33,  261. 
"Camperdown,"  78,  85. 
Camping  outfit,  14. 
Canada,  camping  in,  14,  20,  57. 
Canal  in  auditorium,  143;  of  Corinth, 

269,  270. 
Cape  Colonna,  261. 
Carnival,  177-179. 
Carphyllides,  epitaph  of,  137. 
Caryatides,  113. 
Castalian  spring,  300,  302,  306. 
Cathedral  in  Athens,  158. 
Cecrops,  126. 

Celsus,  Origen's  reply  to,  204,  205. 
Central  Museum,  Athens,  7. 
Ceos,  345. 
Cephalonia,  45-83. 
Ceremony  of  baptism,  193,  194. 
Chaerestratos,  258. 
Chalcis,  337,  343. 
Chapels  in  Greek  church,  216. 


376 


INDEX 


Charleston,  earthquake  of,  79. 

Charon,  death  messenger,  210. 

Cheese  shops,  168,  169,  175. 

Children  of  Athens,  237. 

Chiron,  319. 

Cholera  quarantine,  iS. 

Choral  dance,  139,  140,  152,  153. 

Chorus  in  Greek  theatre,  140. 

Christ  as  Orpheus,  211. 

Christian  apologists,  early,  204 ; 
church,  Parthenon  as,  94 ;  doctrine, 
influence  of  paganism  on,  211 ;  pan- 
theon, 202,  204;  saints  in  street 
names,  167  ;  service,  188 ;  shrines, 
201,  202;  significance  of  orientation, 
207  ;  tradition,  29 ;  virgin  goddess, 
104. 

Christianity,  advent  of,  97  ;  and  pagan- 
ism, martyrs  of,  127;  development 
of,  103  ;  Greek  philosophy  in,  203; 
growth  of,  203  ;  in  Jewish  communi- 
ties, 203 ;  moral  and  social  vigor  of, 
205  ;  nature  love  in,  1 25  ;  origin  of, 
201 ;  temples  of,  97 ;  triumph  of, 
201,  203. 

Christmas,  174,  179,  249. 

Chryso,  298. 

Church,  modem  Greek,  214-222, 164  ; 
music,  at  Athens,  160  ;  problems  in 
Greece,  215. 

Circular  dance,  139,  140,  152,  153. 

Citadel  of  Corinth,  272. 

Cities  claiming  Homer,  356. 

Cladeus,  290,  291,  293. 

Clasping  of  hands,  Greek  custom,  134. 

Cleanthes,  hymn  of,  205. 

Cleomenes  refused  admission  to  Erech- 
theum,  114. 

Clepsydra,  well  of,  124. 

Climate,  3,  8,  20,  27,  39,  70,  75. 

Cocks  of  Athens,  224. 

Coffee-house,  169. 

Colonnades,  257 ;  Doric  and  Ionic, 
168 ;  of  Olympia,  292 ;  of  Propylaea, 
108. 

Colonus,  home  of  Sophocles,  126,  255. 

Columns,  construction  of,  100;  Doric, 
116,  270,  271  ;  entasis  of,  99,  100  ; 
of  Nike  Temple,  113;  of  Parthe- 
non, 116. 


Comedians,  178. 

Communion,  Greek  Church,  217. 

Conception  of  death,  134,  136. 

Conflict,  East  and  West ;  Greek  and 
Hebrew,  216. 

Conon,  255. 

Conservatory  at  Athens,  160. 

Constantine,  166. 

Constantinople,  29 ;  patriarch  of,  218. 

Constantius,  210. 

Constitution  Square,  229. 

Convent  of  Daphne,  251;  of  Saint 
Gerasimo,  47,  50. 

Cooking,  226,  253,  284,  310. 

Co-operative  industries  in  Greek  vil- 
lage, 323. 

Coppersmiths,  172. 

Corfu,  15-76,  271,  274  ;  images  found 
at,  121;  peasant  girls  of,  114;  say- 
ings in,  210. 

Corinth,  282,  283,  297;  excavations 
at,  271  ;  temple  at,  270,  271. 

Corinthian  colonies,  25,  45  ;  gulf, 
268,  271,  297,  313;  helmet  worn 
by  Athene,     123;    war,     hero     in 

Corinthians,  epistles  to,  272. 

Cornice  of  Propylaea,  112. 

Corycian  grotto,  299. 

Cosmetics,  199. 

Cothurnos^  148. 

Country  hospitality,  285;  weddings, 
189,  190^ 

Creed  of  Greek  Church,  217. 

Creon,  146. 

Crete,  vii.,  76,  230,  350. 

Crinagoras  of  Mitylene,  252. 

Cronion,  hill  of,  289,  290,  293. 

Cross,  sign  of  the,  216,  217. 

Crown  Prince  Constantine,  78;  Fred- 
erick, 291. 

Crusaders,  26. 

Cuckoos,  299. 

Culture  of  Trojans,  370. 

Curtius,  Ernst,  281,  291. 

Curvature  of  Parthenon,  92,  98-100. 

Custer,  24,  242. 

"  Customs  and  Lore  of  Modern 
Greece,"  209. 

Cyclades,  344,  345,  349. 


INDEX 


377 


Cyclopean  galleries,   278 ;  walls,  63, 

93,  108,  III,  119,  126,275. 
Cyprus,  29. 

DiEDALUS,   chair,  117. 

Dances,  Athens.  Eleusis,  Megara,  154. 

Dancing  at  Eleusis  and  Megara,  140  ; 

at  weddings,  188-190 ;  on  Pnyx,  140. 
Daphne,  pass  of,  from  Acropolis,  104. 
Dardanelles,  356. 
Daskalio,  Ithaca,  67. 
Deacons  of  Greek  Church,  218. 
Death,  views  of,  210. 
Deifying  tendency,  203. 
Delos,  346,349-35^360. 
Delphi,  7,  297-312,  348.    . 
Delphic  Amphictyony,  297 ;  hymn  to 

Apollo,    303-306 ;   oracle,  298-300, 

307- 
Demeter,  209,  253. 
Demetrius  of  Phaleron,  132;  the  guide, 

28}. 

Democracy  of  the  Greeks,  228. 

Demodocus,  190. 

Demons,  204,  208,  211. 

Demosthenes,  127,  133. 

Despoina,  temple  of,  283. 

Devil,  representations  of,  211, 

Dexia,  Bay  of,  68. 

Dexileos,  tomb  of,  131. 

Diazoma,  143. 

Diet  of  the  peasants,  197. 

Diogenes,    164-166;   a  modern,    164, 

165,  173- 
Diomedes,  357. 
Dionysia,  modem,  178. 
Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  202. 
Dionysus,  209,  273,   274,  297  ;  dances 

in    honor  of,   140;  festival  of,  207; 

temples    of,    153;  theatre    of,    152, 

178,  227;  verses  to,  141. 
Dipylon  of  Athens,  129. 
Distomo,  308,  309,  312. 
Divine  agency,  Hebrew  forms  of,  204 ; 

Greek  forms  of,  204. 
Doctors,  218. 

Dogmas  of  Greek  Church,  221. 
Domes  and  arches,  275. 
Doors  of  temples,  109. 
Doric    architecture,   development   of, 


i39»  279;  chiton  of  Athene,  123; 
colonnades,  108,  168;  columns,  252, 
270,  271,  276,  344  ;  lighting  of,  101 ; 
order,  revival  of,  13, 89,  90 ;  pilasters, 
347;  roof  of,  119;  simpHcity,  198; 
temples,  114,  202,  283. 

Dorpfeld,  vi.,  viii.,  ix.,  8,  94,  153,  164, 
168,  255,  257,  264,  267,  268,  273, 
276-280,  283,  291-293,  342,  347, 
356-371;  lectures,  116;  lighting  of 
temples,  loi ;  monuments  of  Athens, 
226;  studies,  117. 

Dorpfeld's  architectural  knowledge, 
102,  109;  discoveries  of,  112;  Greek 
theatre,  144,  145,  148. 

Dowry,  183-191,  198. 

Drachmas,  fluctuations  of,  171. 

Draco,  126. 

Drama,  development  of,  141,  149. 

Dressed  stones  at  Troy,  3CS. 

Drinking  songs,  Greek,  160. 

Drunkenness,  197. 

Duelling,  229. 

Dumas,  35,  38,  58. 

"  Each  and  All,"  96. 

Eagle,  symbol  of  Zeus  and  John  the 
Evangelist,  211. 

Early  Christian  apologists,  204;  dwel- 
lers in  Athens,  93, 

Earrings,  on  early  statues,  121. 

Earthquakes  at  /Etna,  Katakolon, 
Pyrgos,  Zante,  80;  at  Charleston, 
79  ;  at  Zante,  70,  191,  causes  of,  79; 
Olympia,  290  ;  Parthenon,  98. 

Easter,  30,  221,  222,  244,  287. 

Ecclesiastical  authority,  218;  schools, 
218. 

Echo  colonnade,  292. 

Educational  movements,  250. 

Egyptian  statues  compared  to  Greek, 
121. 

Eileithyia,  temple  of,  209. 

Elders  of  Greek  Church,  218. 

Eleusinian  mysteries,  251. 

Eleusis,  7,  251-253,  345;  dances  at, 
140,  154. 

Elgin,  Lord,  and  Parthenon  frieze,  95, 
251;  Caryatides,  113. 

Elis,  297. 


378 


INDEX 


Emerson,  R.  W.,  96. 

England,  protectorate  of,  19,  26,  45> 
60,  74,  80. 

English  Archaeological  School,  Mega- 
lopolis, 198;  residents  in  Zante, 
78,  80,  war-vessel,  85. 

Entasis  of  columns,  99,  100. 

Ephialtes,  322. 

Epidaurians,  273. 

Epidaurus,  7,  264,  272;  theatre  at, 
142,  147,  148,  152,  154. 

Epirus,  sayings  in,  210. 

Epitaphs,  134,  137. 

Ept>chs  of  Greek  architecture,  252. 

Erechtheum,  117,  118,  120;  as  Chris- 
tian church,  114;  as  Turkish  harem, 
115;  Cleomenes  refused  admission 
to,  114;  description  of,  94,  97,  105, 
113,  114. 

Erechtheus,  126. 

Eretria,  theatre  of,  335,  342,  343. 

Erinyes,  208. 

Eski-Hissarlik,  362. 

Eubcea,  254,  260,  335-3431  Po^s  of, 
317,  318;  priest  in,  219. 

Enboea,  villages  of,  338. 

Eulogia,  208. 

Eumaeus,  58,  63,  64. 

Euphemisms,  208,  209. 

Euripides,  126,  153,  154. 

Euripus,  317,  318. 

European  cathedrals,  grotesque  in,  212. 

European  influence  on  Athens,  159, 
181. 

Evans,  E.  P.  214. 

Excavations  at  Corinth,  271;  at 
Delphi,  299;  at  Olympia,  291. 

Excavations  of  1893,  366. 

Excommunication,  208. 

Fashionable  life  in  Athens,  182. 

Fates  presiding  over  birth  and  mar- 
riage, 210. 

Felton,  Professor,  7,  200. 

Felton's  translation  of  "  CEconomicus," 
200. 

Fergusson,  lighting  of  temples,  loi. 

Figurines,  Tanagra,  248. 

Piliogtie,  217. 

Financial  condition  of  Zante,  'j'j,  81. 


Fishwives,  168,  176. 

Flowers,  22,  23,  27,  43,  70,  350. 

Flower-sellers,  173,  175. 

Fluting  of  columns,  252,  259. 

Fortresses  of  Mycenaean  age,  366. 

Foster,  Mr.,  seismologist,  80. 

France,  "j^j  ;  wine-market  of,  81. 

"  Francinet,"  236. 

Prankish  rule,  95  ;  supremacy,  4  ;  times^ 
relics  of,  251. 

Freedom  of  the  press,  229. 

Freeman,  Edward  A.,  224,  251. 

French  Academy,  158;  and  Italian 
opera,  159;  Archaeological  School, 
226,  301,  347;  government,  excava- 
tions of,  291,  299. 

Frescoes,  Propylaea,  no. 

"  Friends  of  the  Poor,"  250. 

Frieze  of  Parthenon,  95,  124. 

Fruit-dealers,  168,  171,  174. 

Funerals  in  Athens,  179,  180. 

Funeral,  an  international,  335. 

Funerals,  Greek,  179,  180,  339. 

Fustanella,  159,  172. 

Future  Hfe,  belief  in,  252. 

"  Gaius,  Lean,"  232. 

Game  cock,  242,  243. 

Games,  282,  288;  children's,  179. 

Gardner,  Ernest,  280, 

Gargoyles,  212,  213. 

Gastouni,  80. 

Gastouri,  39,  41,  43,  114,  310. 

Gate  of  the  Agora,  167,  168. 

Gauls,  invasion  by,  301,  302,  306. 

Geldart,  28. 

Gell,  64,  69. 

George,  King  of  Greece,  26,  36,  48, 

73,  78,  85,  221. 
Georgios,  183-192,  225,  244. 
Gerasimo,  Hagios.     See  Saint. 
German    excavations,  Olympia,    291 ; 

Institute,  226. 
Germanus,  Metropolitan,  219. 
Germany,  response  from,  •jy. 
"  Gerostathes,"  236. 
Girls  wheeling  barrows,  198. 
Gladiatorial    spectacles,    arrangement 

for,  150. 
"  Glory  of  Hellas,"  309. 


INDEX 


379 


*'  Glory  of  the  Imperfect,"  6. 
Glyptothek  at  Munich,  345. 
Goats,  172,  175,  238-240. 
God-parents,  193,  194. 
Good  Friday,  221,  222,  284. 
Gorgoneion,  121. 
Goths,  invasion  of,  181. 
Graeco-Roman  city  at  Troy,  360 ;  vase 

paintings,  149. 
Graeco-Turkish  War,  250,  320. 
Grave  monuments,  131,  132,  135,  226. 
Great  Britain,  protectorate  of,  19,  26* 

45,  60,  74,  80. 
Great  Treasure,  The,  359. 
Greece,  excursions  in,  267 ;  old  and 

new,    125,    162;   sculptors  in,   132; 

shrines  of,  93;  Venetian  hold  in,  95. 


Greek    Academy, 


and    Roman 


churches,  215;  anthology,  136,  232, 
233;  Archaeological  Society,  251, 
255,256,  274;  architecture,  loi;  art, 
later,  120,  symbols  of,  120;  banks, 
170,  171;  calendar,  29,  248,  259^ 
260;  church,  28,  52,  71,  164,  216- 
221,  227,  311,  312;  columns  in 
modern  architecture,  157;  deities, 
temples  to,  97  ;  domestic  life,  181 ; 
engineers,  270 ;  games,  282,  288 ; 
gods,  5  ;  guns,  bombardment  by,  96 ; 
idea,  influence  of,  103 ;  inns,  48,  65, 
322 ;  language,  paganism  in,  204, 
Christianity  in,  204;  liberty,  127; 
literature,  conception  of  death,  136  ; 
love  of  nature  in,  256  ;  modern  pro- 
nunciation of,  164 ;  money,  varia- 
tions in,  171 ;  national  victories,  254  ; 
nationality,  126,  128  ;  philosophy 
in  Christianity,  203;  Punch  and 
Judy,  178;  schools,  279;  spirit,  195; 
stucco,  271 ;  temples,  orientation  of, 
loi  ;  theatre,  formation  of,  142,  act- 
ing in,  144,  germinal  idea  of,  154, 
origin  of,  139,  stage  in,  143;  virgin, 
inspiration  of,  104;  wedding,  140; 
wit,  232. 

Grotesque  in  architecture,  212-214. 

Grotto  at  Delphi,  299 ;  of  Apollo, 
124,  348  ;  of  Pan,  124. 

Gyaros,  349. 

Gymnasts,  176. 


Hadrian,   167;  Arch  of,  127,  227; 

Aristides'  apology  to,  204 ;  Stoa  of, 

225. 
Hahn's   "  Neugriechische   Marchen," 

209. 
Haigh,  Arthur  E.,  theories  of,  144-148. 
"  Hail,  Columbia,"  237. 
Hair-dressers,  168. 
Hall  of  Bulls,  346,  347. 
Hanai-Tepeh,  361. 
Handel,  funeral  march,  136. 
Harness-makers,  168. 
Harrison,  Miss  Jane,  208. 
Havoc  of  earthquake,  76, 
Hebrew  religion,  rise  of,  94. 
Hecla,  earthquakes  in,  80. 
Hegeso,  monument  to,  130. 
Hegoumenos^  309,  310,  311. 
Helen,  345,  364,  365,  370. 
Helene,  345. 
Helicon,  302,  306. 
Hellenic    academy,     158;    educators, 

288. 
Hellenism  among  rich  and  poor,  195. 
Hellenistic  Greek,  163. 
Hellenists,  organized,  267. 
Hellespont,  363. 
Hephaestus,  362. 
Hera,  temple  of,  289. 
Heraeon,  279,  292,  293. 
Hercules,  319. 
Hermes,  135,  173,  261 ;  of  Praxiteles, 

7,   18,  293;   statues  of,    117,  165; 

Street,  167. 
"  Hermogenes,  Little,"  232. 
Hermopolis,  346. 
Herod  with  nimbus,  211. 
Herodes     Atticus,    164,      223,     269; 

Odeion  of,   104,  127,  154. 
Herodotus,  351. 
Heroic  age,  customs  of,  191. 
Hill,  Rev.  Dr.,  234,  235. 
Hippocrates  Street,  167. 
Hiram  of  Tyre,  277. 
Hissarlik,  357,  359,  361,  363,  370. 
History,  3,  5  ;  and  geography,  268. 
Holidays,  30,  313. 
Holiness  in  Greek  religion,  206. 
Holy   Monday,    Greek   Church,    140; 

Oriental   Orthodox  Catholic  Apos- 


380 


INDE}i 


tolic  Church,  217;   Trinity,  festival 

of,  312,  monastery  of,  326. 
Homer,  4,  9,  13,  28,  32,  3^1  35»  37, 

56,  59,  63,   69,  82,  318,  357,  361, 

363 ;    conception  of  Athene,    103 ; 

epithets  of,  83,  224,  262  ;  the  sea, 

262. 
<'  Homer's  School,"  67. 
Homeric    cock,   228 ;    cooking,   284 ; 

gallantry,  191;  geography,  56,  67- 

69,  84;  Greek,  163;  greeting,  63; 

ground,  274  ;  Ilios,  365,  370 ;  scenes, 

27S  ;  times,  20,  27,  63 ;  tradition, 

25,  29  ;  Troy,  358,  364. 
Homolle,  Monsieur,  347. 
Honesty  of  the  Greeks,  197. 
Hopken,  Dr.  Julius,  theory  of,    144, 

145. 
Homed  Altar,  346,  347. 
Horses  in  Ithaca,  61. 
Hospitals,  250. 
Hucksters  in  Agora,  168-173. 
Hulme,  F.  Edward,  21  r. 
Hymettus,  10,  104,  253,  345,  355. 
Hymnals,  Greek,  227. 

Icon  of  Virgin,  298. 

Iconoclastic  controversies,  216. 

Icons,  216,  298. 

Ictinus,  90. 

Idolatry,  216. 

Ignorance  of  Greek  priests,  218. 

Iliad,  25,  32,  56,  260,  360,  363. 

Ilios,  364-371. 

Ilium,  365. 

Images  in  Greek  church,  212,  216. 

Imbros,  363. 

Immersion,  rite  by,  215. 

ImpossibiHty  of  stage  in  Greek  the- 
atre, 145. 

Independence,  Greek,  254. 

Inns,  48,  65,  322, 

Inquisitiveness,  59. 

Insane,  hospitals  for,  250. 

Inscriptions,  167,  284,  346  ;  on  early 
statues,  121. 

Invasion  by  the  Gauls,  30T,  302,  306. 

Ionian  Isles,  ix,  19,  25,26,  54,  70,  83; 
Musician,  237;  Sea,  287,  297;  wor- 
shippers, shrine  of,  346, 


Ionic  colonnades,  108,  168;  columns, 
Nike  temple,  113;  temple,  Erech- 
theum,  114. 

Ischomachus,  199,  200. 

Island  trip,  255. 

Islands  of  iEgean,  346. 

Isthmian  Wall,  268. 

Isthmus  of  Corinth,  268,  269, 

Italy,  76,  85. 

Itea,  297,  298. 

Ithaca,   25,  33,  37,   54-83,   182,  274, 

350,  370. 
Ithome,  or  Phanari,  325. 

JACKSTONES,  1 79. 

Jars  at  Troy,  368. 

Jason,  319. 

Jerusalem,  temple  at,  116. 

Jesus,  apotheosis  of,  203 ;  disciples  of, 

116;    miraculous     birth     of,     205; 

monotheism  of,  203,  204. 
Jewish  temple,  stones  of,  116. 
John  the  Evangelist,  eagle  as,  211. 
Johnstone,  Captain,  78. 
Josephus  on  Jewish  temple,  116. 
Jugglers,  178. 
Justin  Martyr,  204,  205. 

Kabbadias,  Mr.,  258. 

Kaesariani,  253. 

Kalabaka,  325,  326. 

Kalikiopoulo,  37. 

Kalopothakes,  Dr.,  x.,  227. 

Karystos,  337. 

Katakolon,  76,  80. 

Katsiropoulou,  Maria,  237. 

Kehaya,  Mademoiselle,  250. 

Keos,  254. 

Kephisia  Street,  157. 

Kerkyra,  25. 

Khan  of  Baba,  322. 

King  George,  26,  48,  72)  7^  >  his  gar- 
den, 36,  345 ;  religion,  221 ;  yacht, 
85. 

Kingdom  of  Greece,  26. 

Klephtic  ballads,  210. 

Konistra,  150,  273. 

Korte,  Dr.  A.,  x.,  355,  356. 

KreaSy  226. 

Kyanos,  278. 


INDEX 


381 


Kyrie  eleisan,  52,  187. 
Kynthos,  Mt.,  349. 

Labyrinth,  274. 

Laconia,  284  ;  marriages  in,  186. 

"  Ladies  of  the  Acropolis,"  121, 
122. 

Laertes,  58,  67,  69. 

Lambrds,  Professor,  228. 

Lamps  in  Greek  temples,  102. 

Language,  28. 

Laodamas,  261. 

Larissa,  279,  319,  320,  324,  325. 

Laurium,  263. 

Law  and  order  in  Greece,  320. 

Lawyers,  218. 

Lechevalier,  362. 

Lent,  abstinence  in,  197,  221  ;  in  Ath- 
ens, 140;  marriages  in,  18' 

Leon,  tomb  of,  133. 

Leonidaeon,  292. 

"  Les  Sculptures  Grotesques  et  Sym- 
boliques,"  214. 

Lesbos,  363. 

Leto,  temple  of,  346. 

Leucadian  rock,  64. 

Levke,  66. 

Liberty,  struggles  for,  126,  127. 

Library  in  Athens,  158. 

Light  in  Greece,  loi. 

Limestone,  93,  258,  285,  286. 

Lion  as  symbol  in  art,  133,  211. 

Lion  Gate,  Mycenae,  274,  276. 

Literary  and  artistic  products,  103. 

Literature,  82  ;  shrines  of,  57. 

Liturgy  of  Greek  Church,  220. 

Lockyer,  10 1. 

Logeion,  144-153- 

Lolling,  Dr.,  286. 

Long  Walls  of  Themistocles,  126. 

Lotikoumi,  183. 

Louvre,  sculptures  removed  to,  291. 

Lover  of  trees,  a,  339. 

Lowell's  opinion  of  Odyssey,  58. 

Lucerne,  345. 

Lucian,  210. 

Lycabettus,  104,  155,  253. 

Lycaeus,  Mount,  284. 

Lycurgus,  197,  284;  of  Athens,  152. 

Lykosoura,  283. 


"  Lysimachus'  cushion,"  233. 
"  Lysistrata,"  146. 

Mackail,  J.  W.,  137,  233. 

Magdalen  College,  gargoyles  in,  213, 

Magi,  with  nimbus,  211. 

Magicians,  178. 

Mahaffy,  Parthenon,  90. 

"  Maidens  of  the  Porch,"  114,  115. 

Makronisi,  254,  345. 

Malta,  76,  78. 

Manatt,  J.  Irving,  ix.,  277,  336. 

Mandylion,  191. 

Mani,  186. 

Mansell,  Rear-Admiral,  318. 

Mantinea,  279. 

Mantzeros,  237. 

Marathon,  126,  254,  279. 

Marble,  Pentelic,  loi,  108. 

"  Marcus  the  doctor,"  233. 

Market  inspection,  176;  prices,  167. 

Marketing  in  Athens,  170,  176. 

Marriage  compact,  185  ;  customs,  182- 

190 ;  Fates  presiding  over,  210 ;  fees, 

219  ;  laws  of,  191 ;  of  Greek  clergy, 

217, 218  ;  presents,  185 ;  service,  182. 
Martyrs  of  paganism,  127. 
Masks,  in  carnival,  178. 
Masonry  on  Acropolis,  93. 
Mathetes,  204. 
Mathitario,  Ithaca,  67. 
Matrimonial  bargaining,  183. 
Mavilla,  ix.,  14,  21,  28,  30,  37,  39,  46, 

48,  53,  62,  63,  171,  172,  188. 
Mavro  Vouni,  319. 
Mazi,  287,  289. 
Megalopolis,  7,    279,  280,  283,  348; 

excavations,  198  ;  theatre  of,  273. 
Megara,  154  ;  dances  at,  140,  345. 
Megaron,  276,  365. 
Melanydro,  spring  of,  67. 
Melas,  Leon,  236. 
Memorial  of  the  dead,  243;  mound, 

254. 
Menelaus,  195. 
Messenia,  284. 

Messianic  idea,  203 ;  Christ,  204. 
Meteora,  324  ;  cliffs  of,  325. 
Metropolitan   Church,    Athens,    207, 

225. 


382 


INDEX 


Metropolitans,  217-222. 

Mice,  havoc  of,  278. 

Middle  Ages,  representations  of  devil 
and  demons  in,  211. 

Mimont,  Baron,  335. 

Minaret  placed  on  Parthenon,  95. 

Mining,  263. 

Minister  of  Ecclesiastical  Affairs,  218. 

Ministers  of  State,  222. 

Miracles  of  Epidaurus,  272. 

Mnesicles,  Propylaea,  iii. 

Modern  Greek  Church,  214-222  ;  lan- 
guage, 27,  267 ;  theatres  in  Athens, 
159. 

Mohammedanism  victorious  overChris- 
tianity,  95. 

Molo,  Gulf  of,  64-68. 

Monasteries,  49,  53,  218,  219,  307-312. 

Monastery,  ascent  of,  326 ;  of  Holy 
Trinity,  326;  of  St.  Barlaam,  328, 
330 ;  of  St.  George,  155  ;  of  St.  Luke, 
307,  309,  310.  312  ;  of  St.  Stephen, 
327 ;  supper  in,  32S. 

Monastic  life,  49,  53,  310-312  ;  prop- 
erty, 218,  219. 

Money-changers,  170. 

Monoliths,  270. 

Monotheism,  203. 

Monte  San  Salvatore,  27. 

Morosini,  20,  95, 

Mosque,  Parthenon  as,  95. 

"  Mother  of  God,"  203. 

Mother  of  the  Gods,  temple  to,  168, 
289. 

Mother  Superior  of  Cephalonia  Mon- 
astery, 50. 

Mount  Ida,  363. 

Mount  Kynthos,  349. 

Mountain  shrines,  40. 

"  Mourning  Athene,"  122,  123. 

Muir,  Miss  Marion,  x.,  235,  237. 

Murray's  Hand-Book,  318. 

Museums  at  Olympia,  291,  293 ;  at 
Athens.     See  Athens. 

Music  in  Athens,  159. 

Musical  notation,  302. 

Musicians  in  Roman  theatre,  150; 
in  later  times,  151. 

Mycenae,  4,  7,  38,  64,  69,  268,  274- 
279,  358,  365-371- 


Mycenaean  age,  358. 

Mycenaean  city,  365. 

Mycenaean  period,  366. 

Mykale,  351. 

Mykonos,  349,  351. 

Myrtle-sellers,  168. 

"  Mythology  and  Monuments  of  An- 
cient Athens,"  208. 

Mythology  in  the  mart,  245;  pagan, 
202,  204. 

Myths,  Christian  and  pagan,  205. 

Names,  revival  of  ancient,  166. 

Naos,  206. 

Narthex,  206. 

National   Exposition,    158;   holidays, 

30,   313 ;    hymn  of    Greece,    237  ; 

Museum,   7,    158,    226,   248,    258, 

stelce  in,  129-135. 
Nationality,  feeling  of,  288. 
Natural  beauty,  appreciation  of,  256. 
Nature  worship,  286. 
Nauplia,  272,  278,  279. 
Nausicaa,  32-36,  39,  42,  349 
Nave,  206,  216. 
Naxos,  345,  347,  349. 
Naxos,  legends  of,  209. 
Nazarenes,  Greek  priests,  217. 
Neachori,  Zante,  75. 
Neale,  excommunication,  208 ;  orien- 
tation of  Greek  churches,  206. 
Neander,  216. 
Neapolitan  supremacy,  26. 
"  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,"  in  Greek, 

227. 
Nemesis,  temples  of,  25S. 
Neo-Platonists,  127, 
Nereids  in  popular  poetry,  210. 
Neritos,  59. 

Nero,  300  ;  Corinthian  Canal,  269,  270. 
"  Neugriechische  Marchen,"  209. 
New  Testament,  evil  spirits  in,  208 ; 

Greek,   28,   209;   times,   170,   215, 

271. 
New  woman  of  Athens,  196. 
New  Year's,  249;  in  Agora,  174,  176. 
Newsboys'  schools,  250. 
Newspaper  jokes,  232. 
Newspapers,  advertisements  in  Greek, 

199  ;  in  Athens,  228-232. 


INDEX 


383 


Nicholas,  183,  190,  280. 
Nicolas,  Prince,  78. 
Night  schools,  250. 
Nightingales,  256,  323. 
Nike,  temple  of,  97,  104,  105. 
Nimbus,  origin  of,  211. 
Noach,  Dr.,  356. 
"  Noctes  Atticae,"  223. 
Novum  Ilium,  365. 
Numismatics,  246. 
Nymphs,  cave  of  the,  68,  69. 


Observatory  Hill,  Athens,  104. 
Odeion  of  Herodes  Atticus,  104,  127, 

154,  164. 
Odysseus,    32-37,    56-69,    136,    261, 

278,  349,  355.  357. 
"  Odysseus'  Castle,"  62. 
Odyssey,  25,  32-38,  57-70,    135,  195, 

262,  279,  322,  349. 
"  CEconomicus,"  199,  200. 
CEdipus,  139;  at  Colonus,  146. 
Officers  of  Greek  Church,  218,  219, 
Oil  dealers,  168. 
Old  Greece  and  the   New,   The,    3- 

Testament  rites,  221. 
Olga,  Queen  of  Greece,  y8,  79. 
Olympia,  7, 268,  282,  287-297;  museum 

at,  291;    shell  conglomerate,    no; 

temples    at,    100,    102,    270,    351^ 

360. 
Olympic  games,  288,  290,  292,  297. 
Olympus,  9,  10,  319,  321,  322,  325, 

340. 
"  On  the  Track  of  Odysseus,"  27- 
Opera  in  Athens,  228. 
Opisthodomos,  206. 
"  Opisthodomos  at  Acropolis,"  114. 
Oracle  of  Oropus,  256. 
Orchestra,  141,  143,  152,  263. 
Orientation  of  Byzantine  church,  206; 

of  temples,  loi,  206,  259. 
Origen's  reply  to  Celsus,  204,  205. 
Origin  of  Christianity,  humble,  201. 
Oropus,  255,  256. 
Orphans,  care  of,  250. 
Orpheus,  Christ  as,  211. 
Ossa,  319,  321,  322. 
Otus,  322. 


PiEONius,  Victory  of,  293. 

Pagan  marriage  customs,  182 ;  service, 
188. 

Paganism,  272;  and  Christianity,  201, 
202 ;  assimilation  of,  202 ;  decay  of, 
201;  deities  of,  103;  in  Greek  lan- 
guage, 204  ;  martyrs  of,  127;  splen- 
dor of,  201 ;  triumph  of,  203. 

Paintings,  Propylaea,  no. 

Palace  of  Priam,  357. 

Palaeokrdpi,  68. 

Palaestra,  288,  292. 

Palmer,  George  Herbert,  6,  36,  61. 

Pan,  grotto  of,  124,  300,  307. 

Panaghia  Blastike,  209. 

Panagiotes,  308,  311-313. 

Panathenaic  procession,  96,  177. 

Pandion,  126. 

Pantheon,  Church  of  All  Saints,  210. 

"  Papa  Narkissos,"  219. 

Papal  infallibiUty,  217. 

Paradoi,  151. 

Paraskevds,  298,  307. 

Paris,  influence  of,  on  Athens,  i8r. 

Parish  priest,  income  of,  219;  occupa- 
tions of,  219. 

Parliament  debates,  230. 

Parnassus,  271,  297,  298,  300,  313; 
Club,  228,  249;  inn,  65. 

Parnes,  104,  253. 

Paros,  345,  349. 

Parren,  Mme.  CalHrhoe,  x.,  196,  250; 
Monsieur,  x. 

Parrot,  Greek,  225. 

Parthenon,  6,  10,  20,  25,  55,  89-124, 
139,  i55>  156,263,  332,  352,  355; 
Acropolis  before  time  of,  93,  94; 
ancient  statue  in,  123;  approach  to, 
106;  as  Byzantine  church,  95,  97, 
100;  as  powder  magazine,  95;  best 
time  to  see,  104  ;  bombardment  of, 
92 ;  Byzantine  worship  in,  102 ; 
called  St.  Sophia,  210;  changes  in, 
102;  completion  of,  95,  108,  117, 
118;  crown  of  Acropolis,  112;  cur- 
vature of,  92  ;  details  of,  102  ;  drums 
of,  116,  117;  earthquakes,  98;  first 
impression  of,  90 ;  foundations  of, 
98  ;  frieze,  95,  124  ;  models  of,  89; 
moonlight,   104 ;    Pentelic    marble, 


384 


INDEX 


10 1 ;  perfection  of ,  103;  photographs 
of,  89;  setting  of,  96,  loi  ;  sim- 
plicity of,  97 ;  situation  of,  93 ; 
statue  of  Atlione  in,  101 ;  sunset, 
105  ;  topped  with  minaret,  95  ;  work, 
resemblance  of  stelae  to,  134. 

Passion  service,  beauty  of  the,  220. 

Pater  Anthimos,  186-188,  196,  219. 

Pathos  of  grave  stelae,  136. 

Patras,  76,  80,  287  ;  goats  at,  240. 

Patriarchs,  218. 

Patriotic  institution,  Greek  Church  a, 
221 ;  plays,  159. 

Patriotism,  5  ;  shrine  of,  254. 

Paul,  Saint.     See  Saint. 

Pauline  church,  215. 

Pausanias,  4,  8,  112,  117,  118,  167, 
202,  255,  269-275,  281,  300,  301. 

Peas  in  jars  at  Troy,  368. 

Peasants,  frugaUty  of,  197. 

•Pedagogues,  233,  235. 

Pediments,  sculptured,  loi ;  at  Olym- 
pia,  293. 

Pelasgic  dweller  in  Athens,  93  ;  walls, 
97,  119. 

Peleus,  319. 

PeUon,  319,  321,  322,  340. 

Peloponnesian  War,  26. 

Peloponnesus,  70,  76,  258,  267;  an 
island,  268-270,  345  ;  heart  of,  284; 
homes  in,  198 ;  marriage  customs 
in,  183-189. 

Peneius,  320,  322,  326,  328. 

Penelope,  54,  58. 

Pennethome,  curvature,  92. 

Penrose,  measurements  by,  98,  99,  loi, 
259. 

Pentecost,  244. 

Pentelic  marljle,  loi,  108,  no,  123. 

Pentelicus,  104,  156,  254,  263,  345  ; 
monastery  on,  219. 

Perfumers,  168. 

Pergamon,  Attains,  king  of,  167. 

Periander,  tyrant  of  Corinth,  269,  270. 

Pericles,  58,  90,  94,  96,  106,  225,  246; 
age  of,  126,  164,  275 ;  Propylaea, 
107,  108,  III. 

Peripatetic  dairy,  238-240. 

Permanent  theatres,  143. 

Persia,  hosts  of,  254,  279. 


Persian  invasion,  126;  naval  defeat, 
351;  War,  343,  buildings  before, 
118,  temple  built  after,  94. 

Persians,  spoils  taken  from,  117;  de- 
struction by,  120,  of  Erechtheum, 
117,  of  Propylaea,  107,  of  statues, 
120. 

Pet  animals  on  grave  reliefs,  135. 

Petrine  church,  215. 

Phaeacians,  land  of  the,  25,  32,  2,7 i  38, 
60. 

Phaedriades,  297,  298,  300,  306. 

Phaleron,  Bay  of,  from  Acropolis,  104. 

Phanari,  or  Ithome,  325. 

Pharsalus,  home  of  Achilles,  325. 

Pherae,  319. 

Phidias,  58,  90,  94,  126,  263;  statue 
of  Athene,  103,  118,  292. 

Philanthropic  enterprises,  230. 

Philanthropy,  'j'j,  249. 

Philippeion,  292. 

Philologists,  218. 

Philopappus,  hill  of,  104,  127. 

"  Philo's  boat,"  233. 

Phocis,  271,  297. 

Phoenicia,  277. 

Phoenix,  symbol  of  resurrection,  211. 

Phorcys,  harbor  of,  60,  68,  69. 

Piano  in  Athens,  160. 

Pilatus  railroad,  329. 

Pindar,  126,  225. 

Pindus,  328. 

Piraeus,  25, 104,  255, 317,  337,  352,355. 

Pisistratus  on  Acropolis,  94. 

Pissaeto,  61. 

Pithoi,  368. 

Pithos^  164,  173. 

Plato,  58,  126, 127,  183,  200,  204,  225, 
227,233,  252,311,  369. 

Plutarch,  169. 

Pnyx,  104;  dancing  on,  140. 

Polis,  Bay  of,  67. 

Political  and  ecclesiastical  authority, 
218. 

Pollux,  179. 

Polycleitus,  274. 

Polyphemus,  278. 

Polytheism,  208. 

Pompey,  battlefield  of,  325. 

Poros,  345. 


INDEX 


385 


Poros  stone,  103,  no. 

Poseidon,  37,  73,  261,  317,  363;  as 
Saint  Nicholas,  209 ;  contest  with 
Athene,  114  ;  month  of,  287. 

Post-Iliad,  355. 

Potters,  168,  169,  171. 

Pottery  sliops,  172. 

PKiger,  Dr.,  356. 

Praxiteles,  263  ;  Hermes  of,  7,  293. 

Prayers  for  success  in  business,  177. 

Preachers,  selection  of,  218. 

Pre-Persian  art,  120,  121,  in  Acropo- 
lis, 108 ;  days,  225. 

Priesthood  in  Greek  Church,  218. 

Prime  minister,  196,  222,  229. 

Prince  Nicolas,  78. 

Prison  chaplain,  Athens,  219  ;  school, 
250. 

Prisoner's  aid  society,  250. 

Private  schools,  234. 

Procession  of  Holy  Spirit,  217. 

Prodicus,  345. 

Promenades  in  Athens,  159. 

Pronaos,  206,  347. 

Propyl^a,  25,  97,  105-118,  139,  155, 
156,  263;  begun,  108;  description 
of,  107;  design  of,  108,  no; 
earthquakes  and  explosions,  log ; 
materials  of,  108 ;  never  completed, 
107  ;  old  and  new,  107,  108 ;  per- 
manence of,  97 ;  prophetic  details 
of,  112;  symmetry  of,  112. 

Proscenium,  143-152. 

Proskene,  257. 

Proskenion,  143,    149,  151,  273,  281, 


152. 
159; 


"  Byzantine 


Protection  against  rain,  143,  151, 

Psomi^  226. 

Public  buildings  in  Athens,  158, 
cooks,  168,  173-175. 

"  Public  Opinion,"  228. 

Pvblic  schools,  233,  234. 

Pullah,   R.    Popplewell 
Art,"  205. 

Pulpitum,  144,  150;  of  Roman  thea- 
tre, 138. 

Puritan  churches  as  magazines,  95. 

Puritanism,  theatre,  dancing,  138. 

Pyrgos,  190. 

Pythian  games,  297. 


Quarantine,  13. 
Quarries,  254,  263. 
Queen  Olga  of  Greece,  78,  79,  221. 

Ram  of  Odysseus,  278. 
Rangabe,  Alexander,  x. 
Reformatory  in  Athens,  160. 
Refugees,  sheltering,  250. 
Reisch,  Dr.,  145. 

Relation  of  temple  and  theatre,  139. 
Religion,'  birth   and  growth  of,  125  ; 
in    human    life,    Greek,    206 ;    of 
Greece,  252. 
Religious   conflict,    5 ;     dances,    138  ; 
feeling,   indications   of,    120;   rites, 
pagan  influence  on,  202. 
Representations  of  life  on  stel(S,  130. 
Resinato^  197. 
"  Retreat,"  241. 
Revolution  of  1822,  124. 
Rhamnus,  7,  257. 
Rhenea,  or  Great  Delos,  349. 
Rhythm  of  Apollo  hymn,  302. 
Rings,  wedding,  exchange  of,  186. 
Ritual  of  Greek  Church,  214,  220. 
Rivers  in  Greece,  82. 
Rodd,  Rennell,  209. 
Roman  additions   to   Greek  theatres, 
143,  152;  arena,  150;  blocks,  367; 
Corinthian   Canal,    269,    272 ;   cus- 
toms  of  burial,   129;    Ilium,    365; 
monuments  at  Athens,  127  ;  occupa- 
tion, 4,  26 ;  relics,  284  ;  scuplture  in 
Athens,    134 ;    stage,    138 ;   stucco, 
271 ;  times,  theatre  in,  139,  150,  151. 
Rome,    Christian    architecture,    201  ; 

Pantheon,  210;  the  new,  ii;7. 
Roofs,  279;  earthen,  119  ;  temple,  119. 
Roof-tiles,  T18,  119. 
Roscher,  61. 
Rosetta  Stone,  225. 
Rouen,  Palais  de  Justice,  213. 
Royal  palace  at  Athens,  1 58. 
Russian  Church,  217,  218. 
Rustic  pipes,  190. 

Sacred  precincts,  in,  252;  Way  to 
Eleusis,  251. 

Saint  Anastasios,  67 ;  Barlaam,  Mon- 
astery   of,     328,    330;     Catherine, 


25 


386 


INDEX 


Asylum  of,  250;  Demetrius,  209; 
Dionysius,  209;  Gerasimo's  con- 
vent, 47,  48,  50,  51,  54;  John,  gospel 
of,  106;  Luke,  gospel  of,  106, 
Monastery  of,  307 ;  Marina,  209 ; 
Nicholas,  209;  Paul,  4,  10,  14,  127, 
140,  164,  169,  201,  202,  203,  216, 
238,  246,  272,  340;  Peter's,  106, 
201;  Sophia,  103,  207,  210,  275; 
Spiridion,  29,  30,  32,  36,  39; 
Stephen,  Monastery  of,  327  ;  Theo- 
dore's day,  243. 

Saints,  honors  paid  to,  211  ;  icons  of, 
216;  pagan  gods  as,  204,  209. 

Saka,  286. 

Salamis,  104,  126,  225,  251,  253,  271, 

345- 
Salary  of  clergy,  215,  218,  219. 
Salisbury  Cathedral,  106,  212,  213. 
Samos,  Cephalonia,  54,  61,  64,  67. 
Samos,  island  of,  349. 
Samothrace,  363. 
Sanctuary,  206,  216. 
Sanitarium,  Epidaurus,  272 ;  Oropus, 

257. 
Santa  Maura,  64. 
Sappho,  64. 

Saronic  Gulf,  268,  271,  337,  345. 
Sarum,  106. 

Satan  with  nimbus,  211. 
Satire  in  cathedral  sculpture,  212. 
Scamander,  360,  362,  363. 
Scene,  143,  152. 
Scenery,  3,  8,  21,  26,  39,  43,  82,  104, 

256,  261,  264,  287,  300,  309,  313,  321, 

3501  370. 
Scheria,  25,  38,  60. 
Schliemann,  Dr.,  4,  7,  63,  64,  157, 196, 

275,    278,    357-367;     Agamemnon, 

195  ;  Mrs.,  X.,  195,  276,  359. 
Schliemannville,  357,  363. 
Schmidt,  M.  B.,  211. 
School  children,  233. 
Schools,  Greek,  164. 
Screen  in  theatre,  142. 
Sculptors  of  tombstones,  132. 
Seats  in  Greek  theatre,  143,  280,  281. 
Seismology,  students  of,  79. 
"Select    Epigrams  from    the   Greek 

Anthology,"  233. 


Self-government,  struggle  for,  126. 

Semantron,  331. 

Seriphos,  349. 

Servian  Church,  218. 

"  Seven  against  Thebes,"  255. 

Sewing  machines,  253. 

Sexes  divided  in  Greek  church,  215. 

Sheep  at  Mycenae,  278. 

Shining  Cliffs,  297,  298,  300,  306. 

Ship  of  Stone,  32. 

Shoemakers,  172,  174. 

Shoes,  Greek,  171,  172. 

Shouts  in  Agora,  174. 

Shrine  in  Agora,  177;  of  Hellenic 
nationality,  291  ;  of  patriotism,  254; 
of  tlie  mountains,  286 ;  of  the  sea, 
286  ;  of  the  Virgin  in  homes,  182. 

Slirines  of  Apollo  and  Artemis,  346. 

Simois,  360. 

Simonides,  345. 

Sioux  Indians,  burial  customs  of,  131. 

Siphnos,  349. 

Sirens,  symbols  on  tombs,  133. 

Skene,  13,  141-143,  151,  152,  281. 

Sky,  Greek,  loi. 

Slavery,  263. 

Slaves,  168,  174. 

"  Smoke-shops,"  169. 

Smoking,  169,  181,  280. 

Smyrna,  356. 

Social  conventions  in  Athens,  181. 

Socrates,  58,  127,  164,  168-170,  175, 
200,  223,  238,  246,  311,  369. 

Solidity  of  Cyclopean  walls,  93. 

Solomon's  Temple,  277. 

Solomos,  poet  of  Zante,  237. 

Solon,  126,  246;  Street  of,  167. 

Sophia,  Saint,  temple  of,  103. 

Sophocles,  58,  126,  143,  149,  152,  154, 
227,  369. 

Sparta,  156,  284;  girls  in,  193;  mar- 
riage customs  in,  183-189. 

Spartan  frugality,  285. 

Spielhagen,  35. 

Spinning,  253. 

Spiridion,  181,  197,  225. 

Spiridion,  Saint.     See  Saint. 

Spon  and  Wheler,  92. 

Stadion,  292;  caf6  near,  183;  Olym- 
pia,  290;  Street,  173,  179,  202. 


INDEX 


387 


Stadium,  Delphi,  297. 

Stage  in  Greek  theatre,  141-151,  257, 
280,  281. 

Stagirite,  school  of  the,  226. 

State  and  Church,  union  of,  217. 

Statue  of  Apollo,  346. 

Statues,  7,  94,  loi,  103, 114,  115,  118, 
120,  124,  168,  261,  292,  293;  de- 
stroj'ed  by  Persians,  120;  in  Roman 
and  Greek  churches,  216;  on  Acro- 
polis, 120. 

Stavrds,  66-68. 

Steamships,  9,  45,  57. 

StelcCj  129. 

Stele,  Athene  guarding  a,  123. 

Steps,  curvature  of,  99  ;  interpolation, 
100 ;  of  theatre,  280,  281 ;  size  of 
temple,  100. 

Stillman,  37. 

Stoa  of  Attalus,  167,  225. 

Strack,  Dr.,  356. 

Strata  of  Troy,  365. 

Straw,  mark  of,  369. 

"  Street  of  the  Anvil,"  172. 

"  Street  of  the  Red  Shces,  "171,  172. 

"  Street  of  Tombs,"  129. 

Streets  in  Athens,  156,  167,  171,  172. 

Stretch,  John,  21,  22,  46. 

Stucco,  use  of,  no,  271. 

Studies  in  public  schools,  235,  236. 

Stylobate,  curvature  of,  98,  99,  100, 
281. 

Suicide,  in  Greek  Church,  241. 

Sunday,  wedding  day  of  the  poor,  190. 

Sunium,  118,  260,  261,  263,   286,  317, 

345.  352. 
Superstitions,  208. 
Supplies  for  Zante,  jS. 
Supreme  Court  of  Greece,  202. 
Swallows  in  Vale  of  Tempe,  324. 
Symbolism  in  Greek  Church,  220. 
"  SymboHsm  in  Christian  Art,"  211. 
Symbols  in  Greek  art,  120,  133. 
Syngros,  Mr,,  patriotic  Athenian,  291. 
Synod  governing  Greek  Church,  217, 

218. 
Syra,  346,  349. 

Tables  of  money-changers,  170. 
Tagari,  176. 


"  Tales  of  the  iEgean,"  192,  219. 
Tanagra  figures,  226  ;  vases,  247. 
Tarbell,  Professor,  ix.,  226,  317,  329, 

Taygetus,  284. 

Teachers,  salary  of,  234. 

Tegea,  207,  279. 

Telemachus,  58,  135. 

Tempe,  Vale  of,  317,  320,  322,  327. 

Temple  doors,  109;  lighting,  loi ;  of 
Apollo,  346;  of  Artemis,  94,  346; 
of  Atliene,  94,  352,  365,  366;  of 
Athene  Polias,  117,  118;  of  Hera, 
35.  -7°i  289,  351  ;  of  Leto,  346;  of 
Nike,  113;  of  Olympian  Zeus,  too, 
102,  127,  227,  289,  291  ;  roofs,  119; 
steps,  curvature  of,  99,  size  of, 
100  ;  interpolation  of,  loo ;  to  the 
Mother  of  the  Gods,  168,  289,  292. 

Temples  at  Bassa;,  285 ;  at  Corinth, 
270;  at  Mycenae,  276;  at  Olympia, 
100,  102,  270,  351;  at  Rhamnus, 
257-260;  difficulties  of  building, 
108;  Greek,  orientation  of,  loi. 

Temporary  stage,  144,  145  ;  theatres, 

143- 

Tenedos,  island,  360,  363. 

Tenos,  254,  345,  349. 

Terra-cottas  on  Acropolis,  120. 

TertuUian,  211,  216. 

Tetradrachma,  244. 

Texier,  Charles,  "  Byzantine  Art," 
205,  210. 

Textbooks  in  schools,  235-237. 

'*  The  Attic  Theatre,"  144. 

"  The  Clouds,"  153. 

"  The  Early  Agora,"  228. 

"The  Homely  Sister,"  192, 

"  The  Knights,"  153. 

The  Kyria,  181-190,  197. 

"  The  Mycenaean  Age,"  277. 

"The  Stage  in  Aristophanes,"  145. 

Theatre  at  Argos,  279  ;  at  Epidaurus, 
272-274;  at  Eretria,  355  ;  at  Megal- 
opolis, 280,  281  ;  at  Oropus,  256, 
257  ;  at  Rhamnus,  256  ;  at  Thoricus, 
263,  264;  Greek,  138;  in  Roman 
days,  150;  of  Dionysus,  139;  of 
Herodes  Atticus,  104. 

Theban  terra-cottas,  242. 


388 


INDEX 


Thebes,  256. 

Themis,  statue  of,  258. 

Themistocles,  108,  126,  255,  289. 

Theodoric,  369V 

Theological  school  of  university,  218. 

Theology,  scholastic,  203. 

Theory  of  theatre  construction,  257. 

Thermopylae,  136,  166,  318. 

Thersilion,  281. 

Theseion,  104,  168,  201. 

Theseus,  126. 

Thespis,  introduction  of  first  actor, 

141. 
Thessahan    coast,    318 ;    grain,    321 ; 

plain,  328. 
Thessaly,  homes  in,  198. 
Tholos^  274. 
Thoricus,  263,  264. 
Thursday,  fashionable  marriage  day, 

190. 
Tide  mills  at  Cephalonia,  46. 
Tigarni,  351. 
Tiles  for  roofs,  279. 
Tir>'ns,  7,  38,  274,  277,  279,  283,  358, 

360,  367. 
Tombs  of  Mycenze,  275. 
Tombstones,  129. 
Tool  marks,  evidence  of,  102. 
Topography  of  Athens,  253. 
Tower  of  the  Winds,  127,  156. 
Toys  on  Acropolis,  120. 
Tozer,  330. 

Tragedy  in  Athens,  240. 
Trained  nurses,  250. 
Trapezitai,  170. 
"  Treasury  of  Bones,"  243. 
Trees  in  Euboea,  339. 
Triglyphs,  348 ;  colored,  loi  ;  painted 

no. 
Trikkala,  325. 
Trikoupes,  164;  Prime  Minister,  196; 

Miss  Sophia,  196,  234. 
Trinitarian  formula,  204 ;  formula  in 

marriage  service,  189. 
Tripolis,  279. 
Troad,  363. 
Trojan  acropolis,  366 ;  crematory,  362  ; 

elders,  370;    plain,  361;    war,   56, 

62. 
Troy,  7,  25,  38,  64,  69,  355-371  ;  an- 


tiquity  of,  276 ;  Mrs.  Schliemann  at, 

195. 

Tryon,  Admiral,  78. 

Tsountas,  Chrestos,  277. 

Turkey,  map  of,  350. 

Turkeys,  174,  175. 

Turkish  battery  on  Acropolis,  113; 
dress,  364;  harem  in  Erechtheum, 
115  ;  invasion,  4,  6,  26,  45  ;  mosque, 
Parthenon  as,  97  ;  pipes,  169;  wed- 
ding, 363. 

Turks,  Corinth,  272 ;  on  Acropolis, 
95  ;  unbaptized,  280. 

Types  of  expression,  122,  123. 

Unitarian  Church,  women  ministers 

of,  252. 
Unity  of  Greek  Church,  219. 
University  of  Athens,  158,  159,  226, 

234- 
Ujek-Tepeh,  362,  363. 

Vale  of  Tempe,  317,  320,  322,  327. 

Valonia,  345. 

Van  Lennep,  35. 

Vases,  247 ;  as  grave  ornaments,  133. 

Vathy,   Ithaca,   62-68,   350 ;    Sanios, 

350- 

Vegetable  venders,  174. 

Velestino,  319,  325, 

Venders  of  small  wares,  168-178. 

Venetian  supremacy,  4,  26,  41,  45^ 
95;  architecture,  4,  29,  71,  74. 

Venetians,  Corinth,  272. 

Victories  leading  a  cow,  1 1 3. 

Victory  binding  her  sandal,  113;  of 
Paeonius,  293 ;  of  Samothrace,  293. 

Vido,  13,  16,  21,  23,  71. 

Village  washing,  41. 

Villages  of  Euboea,  338. 

Villages,  Troy,  366. 

Vineyards,  27. 

Virgin  goddess,  203,  conception  of, 
103;  icons  of,  216;  Mary,  image  of 
in  Parthenon,  97 ;  Mary,  Parthenon 
as  church  of,  103. 

Virtues  of  the  home,  198. 

Vitruvius,  148,  149,  280,  281;  state- 
ment of,  144. 

Vlachou,  Miss  Marigo,  235,  236. 


INDEX 


389 


"  Volksleben  der  Neugriechen,"  211. 
Volo,  317,  319,  320,  340;  Bay  of,  319. 
Von  Moltke,  362. 
Votive  tablets,  135. 

Wagner,  106 ;  at  Bayreuth,  90. 

Waldstein,  Dr.,  343. 

Walls  at  Mycenae,  276;  without 
mortar,  257. 

Wasliing,  village,  41. 

Washington,  156;  Capitol,  approach 
to,  107;  Monument,  329. 

Wedding  in  Greek  home,  140;  pro- 
cession, 190. 

Weddings,  43. 

Wheelbarrows,  198,  364. 

Wheeler,  Professor  J.  R.,  ix.,  227. 

Wheler,  Spon  and,  92. 

White,  Professor  John  Williams,  ix., 
114,  145,  147. 

Winckelmann,  291. 

"  Wine-dark  sea,"  262 ;  wine-mer- 
chants, 169  ;  wine-shops,  168,  169. 

•'  Wingless  Victory,"  113. 

Wolters,  Dr.,  x.,  357. 

Womanhood,  idealization  of,  203. 

Wotnan's  journal  of  Athens,  196. 


Women  as  clerks,  170;  as  wage- 
earners,  198;  marketing,  170. 

Women's  work  in  Greece,  170; 
gallery,  Greek  Church,  215. 

Wooden  Horse,  357. 

Wooden  structure,  reminiscence  of, 
109,  no. 

Woodley,  Alfred,  46,  47,  49,  53,  55. 

Working-girls,  help  for,  250. 

Workmen  at  Troy,  364. 

Xenodocheion^  290. 
Xenophon,  231,  279,  285,  287. 
Xenophon's  "  CEconomicus,"  199,200* 
Xenophontine  Greek,  163. 
Xerochori,  337. 

Zakynthos,  70. 

Zante,  54,  'j'j^  82,  287,  289 ;  currants, 

49»  70,  71,  81  ;  earthquake,  4,   70- 

86,   230;    marriage   customs,   183, 

190,  191 ;  natural  formation  of,  79; 

Neachori,  75  ;  poet,  237. 
Zeus,  175,   233;  altar  of,  288;  eagle 

symbol   of,    211;    statue    to,    168; 

temple  of,  289,  292  ;  temple,  Olym- 

pia,  100,  102,  227,  351. 


GREEK    INDEX 


*Ayv(iarT<f  fte^^  202. 

*A<cp<)7roAi?,  163. 

'AArjflis  dve'o-JTj,  222. 

dAefi^poxoi/,  231. 

avafiaiyu),  Kara/SaiVw,  fig.  uSC  of,  I49. 

dpyvpoScVijSj  224. 

dpTOTTuiATjSj  169. 

'Ao-Tu,  163. 

Xdpo5,  210. 

Xat'pere,  63. 

XeAiSoVi,  324. 

Xopei'a,  141. 

Xopeuco,  141. 

XpiffTo?  avearrf^  222. 

6aifi(»i>^  208. 

Aei/  f^evpto,  280. 

'H  'Ao-xiJM'?  'A6eA<^^,  1 92. 

'H  Koii'>)  ri/wMI*  228. 

'H  ■Pa7rTo/u.i7xaj'^,  230. 

«^a,  174. 

ifinopo^  170. 

ejTi  <r/cijj'^?j  I49» 

CTTi  Tpane^Hi'.  149. 

eroi/xa,  329. 

Ew/aefifies,  208. 

ew^Aoyia,  209. 

*I5iwTi»cbf  SxoAeioj',  234. 

Kaipoij  163. 

KaAiif  opefii/^  3^1  • 

*ca:r.jAi/cds,  170. 

xdmjAo?,  170. 


KanvoviaXelov,  169. 

KaOapa.  Sevrepa^   140. 

/cepa/LioTTwAeioi',  169. 

kAijtjjp,  176. 

KOKKa\o0r]Kr)j  244. 

Aeirra,   194. 

AouTpo(/)dpo5    133. 

ftaknTTa^  341. 

MapTupiKd,  194. 

MeAeVrj     eirl    toO     Btou    twi'     N6(i>Tep<i)V 

'EAA^i/wi/j  211. 
Moipai,  210. 
covi'ds,  193,  194. 
oJi/OTTwAr/Sj  169. 
opxijCTTpa,  141. 
jravoupyos,  63. 
iraTraydAo  lopaio,  235. 
IIofijfAaTaj  230. 
IIoAinj?,  N,  r,,  211. 
iroAvdetpd;,  321. 
Trpol/co,  183,  184,  198. 
Tpoif,  183. 
irpoJTvAoiaj  106. 
'2  rd  5i<d  (ra?j  18S. 
(reAr}cid^O|xat,  209. 
'S.etiovkiva^  230. 
(TTran'w?    185. 
<rup4novia^  1 85,  186. 
Tpdve^a^  170. 
TvpojTulArjfj  169. 
wparoc,  341. 


FRANCIS  PARKMAN'S  WORKS 

NEW    LIBRARY    EDITION. 

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upon  a  choice  laid  paper.  Illustrated  with  twenty-four  photo- 
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Smith,  Thule  de  Thul. trap,  Frederic  Remington,  Orson  Lowell. 
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LIST    OF    VOLUMES. 

PIOMEERS  OF  FRANCE  IN  THE  NEW  "WORLD I  vol. 

THE  JESUITS  IN  NORTH  AlVBERICA I  vol. 

LA  SALLE  AND  THE  DISCOVERY  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST  ...  I  vol. 

THE  OLD  REGBiE  IN  CANADA I  VoL 

COUNT  FRONTENAC  AND  NEW  FRANCE  UNDER  LOUIS  XIV.     .  I  vol 

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THE  CONSPIRACY  OF  PONTIAC  AND  THE  INDLAN  WAR  AFTER 

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THE  OREGON  TRAIL I  vol. 

A.ny  tvork  supplied  separately  in  cloth. 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1.  Portrait  op  Francis  Parkman. 

2.  Jacques  Cartiek.    From  the  painting  at  St.  Malo. 

3.  Madame  de  la  Peltrie.     From  the  painting  in  the  Convent   des 

Ursuliues. 

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by  Thule  de  Thulstrup. 

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ard Pyle. 

6.  La  Salle  Presenting  a  Petition  to  Louis  XIV.    From  the  paint- 

ing by  Adrien  Moreau. 

7.  Jean  Baptiste  Colbert.     From  a  painting  by  Claude  Leffevbre  at 

Versailles. 

8.  Jean  Guyon  before  Bouillt?.    From  a  picture  by  Orson  Lowell. 

9.  Madame  de  Frontenac.     From  the  painting  at  Versailles, 

10.  Entry  of  Sir  William  Phips  into  the  Quebec  Basin.    From  a 

picture  by  L.  Rossi. 

11.  The  Sacs  and  Foxes.    From  the  picture  by  Charles  Bodmer. 

12.  The  Return  from  Deerfield.    From  the  painting  by  Howard  Pyle. 


FRANCIS  PARKMAN'S   WORKS. 


13.  Sir  William  Pepperrell.    From  the  painting  by  Smibert. 

14.  Marquis  de  Beauharnois,   Governor  of   Canada.     From  the 

painting  by  Tonnieres  in  the  Mus^e  de  Grenoble. 

15.  Marquis  de  Montcalm.    From  the  original  painting  in  the  posses- 

sion of  the  present  Marquis  de  Montcalm. 

16.  Marquis  de  Vaudreuil.     From  the  painting  in  the  possession  of  the 

Countess  de  Clermont  Tonnerre. 

17.  General  Wolfe.    From  the  original  painting  b^'  Highmore. 

18.  The  Fall  of  Montcalm.    From  the  painting  bv  Howard  Pyle. 

19.  View  of  the  Taking  of  Quebec.     From  the  early  engraving  of  a 

drawing  made  on  the  spot  by  Capt.  Hervey  Smyth,  Wolfe's  aid-de- 
camp. 

20.  Col.  Henry  Bouquet.     From  the   original  painting  by  Benjamin 

West. 

21.  The  Death  of  Pontiac.    From  the  Picture  by  De  Cost  Smith. 

22.  Sir  William  Johnson.    From  a  mezzotint  engraving. 

23.  Half   Sliding,    Half   Plunging.     From  a  drawing  by  Frederic 

Remington. 

24.  The  Thunder  Fighters.     From  the  picture  by  Frederic  Remington. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  quote  here  from  the  innumerable  tributes  to  so 
famous  an  American  author  as  Francis  Parkman.  Among  writers  who 
have  bestowed  the  highest  praise  upon  his  writings  are  such  names  as  James 
Russell  Lowell,  Dr.  John  Fiske,  President  Charles  W.  Eliot  of  Harvard 
University',  George  William  Curtis,  Edward  Eggleston,  W.  D.  Howells, 
James  Schouler,  and  Dr.  Conan  Doyle,  as  well  as  many  prominent  critics  in 
the  United  States,  in  Canada,  and  in  England. 

In  two  respects  Francis  Parkman  was  exceptionally  fortunate.  He  chose 
a  theme  of  the  closest  interest  to  his  countrymen,  —  the  colonization  of  the 
American  Continent  and  the  wars  for  its  possession,  — and  he  lived  through 
fifty  years  of  toil  to  complete  the  great  historical  series  which  he  designed 
when  but  a  A'outh  at  college. 

The  text  of  the  New  Library  Edition  is  that  of  the  latest  issue  of  each 
work  prepared  for  the  press  by  the  distinguished  author.  He  carefully 
revised  and  added  to  several  of  his  works,  not  through  change  of  views, 
but  in  the  light  of  new  documentary  evidence  which  his  patient  research 
and  untiring  zeal  extracted  from  the  hidden  archives  of  the  past.  Thus  he 
rewrote  and  enlarged  "The  Conspiracy  of  Pontiac"  ;  the  new  edition  of 
"La  Salle  and  the  Discovery  of  the  Great  West"  (1878),  and  the  1885 
edition  of  "  Pioneers  of  France  "  included  very  important  additions  ;  and  a 
short  time  before  his  death  he  added  to  "  The  Old  Regime  "  fifty  pages, 
under  the  title  of  "  The  Feudal  Chiefs  of  Acadia."  The  New  Library  Edition 
therefore  includes  each  work  in  its  final  state  as  perfected  by  the  historian. 
The  indexes  have  been  entirely  remade. 


LITTLE,   BEOWN,  &   CO.,   Publishers, 

254  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


THE  WRITINGS  OF 
ERNEST  RENAN.... 

FAITHFULLY   TBANSLATFn    AND    ISSUED 
IN    UNIFORM   STYLE. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  PEOPLE  OF  ISRAEL. 

Vol.  I.     Till  the  Time  of  King  David. 

Vol.  II.  From  the  Reign  of  David  up  to  the  Capture 
of  Samaria. 

Vol.  III.  From  the  Time  of  Hezekiah  till  the  Return 
from  Babylon. 

Vol.  IV.  From  the  Rule  of  the  Persians  to  that  of  the 
Greeks. 

Vol.  V.     Period    of    Jewish   Independence    and    Judea 
under  Roman  Rule.      With  an  Index  to  the  whole  Work. 
Five  volumes.     8vo.      Cloth,  gilt  top.     Per  volutne,  $2. SO. 

Renau's  "History  of  Israel "  may  be  said  to  consist  of  three  parts.  The 
first  two  volumes  contain  the  analysis  of  the  events  that  led  up  to  the  rise 
of  the  prophets ;  in  the  third,  he  unfolds  his  view  of  those  prophets ;  while 
the  last  two  illustrate  the  course  of  the  prophetical  ideas,  steadily  making 
their  way,  despite  constantly  recurring  backsets,  till  their  final  triumph 
in  Jesus.  Viewing  the  five  volumes  as  a  whole,  their  interest  centres  in 
Kenan's  interpretation  of  Hebrew  history ;  and  it  may  safely  be  said  that 
nothing  that  he  has  done  reveals  the  brilliancy  of  his  mind  and  the  great- 
ness of  his  intellectual  grasp  as  does  this  monument,  which  he  was  fortu- 
nately permitted  to  finish  before  his  life  came  to  an  end. 

LIFE   OF  JESUS. 

By  Ernest  Renan.     From  the  twenty-third  and  final  French 
Edition,  revised  and  enlarged,  with  Notes. 

8vo.     Cloth,  gilt  top.     $2.50. 
Professor  Joseph  Henry  Allen,  who  has  performed  the  duties  of  editor,  says : 
"The  two  best-known  English  translations  have  been  freely  used,  while  nearly 
•very  sentence  has  been  recast,  and  the  whole  has  been  scrupulously  weighed, 


2  THE   WRITINGS  OF  ERNEST  REN  AN. 

phrase  by  phrase,  with  the  original."  The  revision  has  extended  to  the  scriptural 
references,  which  have  in  numerous  cases  been  made  more  precise,  and  Professor 
Allen  has  made  some  additions  to  the  footnotes ;  moreover,  and  this  is  a  matter  of 
no  slight  importance,  the  work  is  now  put  forth  for  the  first  time  with  an  index. 
It  can  be  said  for  this  edition,  that  it  represents  the  original  with  admirable  fidelity 
in  point  of  meaning ;  and  this,  when  an  author  hke  Renan  is  concerned,  is  an  affair 
of  no  slight  moment.  Professor  Allen  does  not  claim  too  much  for  Kenan's  "  Life 
of  Jesus  "  when  he  speaks  of  it  "  as  the  one  great  literary  monument  of  a  century 
of  New  Testament  criticism."  It  is  a  book  that  no  one  laying  claim  to  the  advan- 
tages of  a  liberal  education  can  afford  to  leave  unread,  for  it  has  given  a  vitalizing 
reality  to  the  gospel  narrative  that  with  the  breakup  of  creeds  and  dogmas  is  sure 
to  have  a  conserving  influence  on  the  reUgious  development  of  humanity.  —  Tlie 
Biocon. 

THE   APOSTLES. 

Including  the  Period  from  the  Death  of  Jesus  until  the 
Greater  Missions  of  Paul.  By  Ernest  Renan.  Translated 
and  edited  by  Joseph  Henry  Allen,  D.D.,  late  Lecturer  on 
Ecclesiastical  History  in  Harvard  University. 

8vo.      Cloth,  gilt  top.     $2,50. 

This  was  Dr.  Allen's  last  literary  work,  his  death  occurring  a  few  days 
after  the  final  revision  of  the  proofs.  In  his  preface  he  says:  "I  have 
found  great  joy  in  the  execution  of  it,  with  an  increased  sense  of  the  gran- 
deur and  nobility  of  tlie  tlieme,  — the  establishment  of  Clnistianity  as  a 
moral  power  in  the  world,  —  to  a  riglit  understanding  of  which  it  has  been 
the  chief  aim  and  hope  of  my  working  years  to  contribute,  however 
humbly." 

It  is  probable  that  so  complete  a  picture  of  the  moral  and  social  condition 
of  the  world  at  a  great  historical  epoch  has  never  been  elsewhere  given  as 
will  be  found  in  the  concluding  chapters  of  the  present  volume. 

If  one  wishes  to  read  an  apotheosis  of  religion  pure  and  simple,  he  must  turn 
to  these  pages  of  the  great  sceptic.  It  should  be  added  that  one  of  the  best  estimates 
of  Renan  himself  in  a  few  words  is  given  by  Dr.  Allen  in  his  own  preface  to  the 
Apostles.  —  The  Christian  Register. 

The  translator  has  been  remarkably  successful  in  liis  efforts  to  "  preserve  the 
form  and  color  of  the  author's  thought,"  and  has  made  a  version  that  is  fluent  and 
has  often  a  grace  of  its  own,  while  the  added  notes  and  fuller  references  will  make 
this  edition  more  useful  for  scholars  than  the  original  itself.  —  The  Churchman. 

Renan  has  written  fearlessly,  and  while  we  cannot  agree  with  all  that  he  be- 
lieves and  here  sets  forth,  yet  we  must  admire  the  depth  of  his  research,  the  hon- 
esty of  his  purpose,  and  the  excellence  and  the  beauty  of  his  diction.  His  works 
are  unequalled  in  their  class,  and  will  become  more  popular  every  year.  No  perf5on 
can  rise  from  a  perusal  of  the  present  volume  without  a  more  thorough  appreciation 
of  the  mission  of  Christ,  the  work  of  His  Apostles,  and  the  wonderful  growth  of  the 
Christian  religion  during  the  twelve  years  immediately  succeeding  the  resurrec- 
tion. —  The  Times,  New  York. 


THE   WRITINGS  OF  ERNEST  RE  NAN.  8 

ANTICHRIST. 

By  Ernest  Renan.     Translated  and  edited  by  Joseph  Henry 

Allkn,  late  Lecturer  on  Ecclesiastical  History  in  Harvard 

University.  ^.  „,  ,,       ^.-  ^_ 

•'  Svo.      Cloth,     $2.50. 

This  volume  covers  the  period  from  tho  arrival  of  the  Apostle  Paul  at 
Rome  to  the  end  of  the  Jewish  Revolution,  a.  d.  61-73,  including  the 
persecution  under  Nero,  which  is,  after  tlie  three  or  four  years  of  the 
public  life  of  Jesus,  the  most  extraordinary  iu  the  entire  development  of 
Christianity. 

THE   FUTURE  OF  SCIENCE. 

By  Ernest  Kenan.  Svo.    cioth,  gUt  top.    $2.50. 

M.  Renan  stands  high  among  tlie  great  writers  of  France,  —  perhaps  we  may  say 
of  the  world.  In  delightfuluess  and  tinisli  of  style,  iu  lucidity  of  thought  so  trans- 
parent that  one  need  never  read  a  sentence  twice,  in  power  to  separate  and  group 
the  saUent  points  of  his  subject  under  the  most  symmetrical  arrangement,  in  abso- 
lute grasp  of  what  he  wishes  to  say  and  facihty  of  saying  it  in  a  way  that  scarcely 
admits  of  a  word  being  added  or  subtra»;ted,  he  is  almost  without  a  peer  among 
his  contemporaries.  —  Eclectic. 

The  complete  set,  conijn'ising  History  of  the  People  of 
Israel,  lAfe  of  Jesus,  The  Ajiostles,  Antichrist,  and  Tlie 
Future  of  Science,  9  vols.,  Svo,  cloth,  ^22,50, 


MY  SISTER  HENRIETTE. 

By  Ernest  Renan.  Translated  by  Abby  Langdon  Alger. 
With  7  photogravure  illustrations  by  Henri  Scheffer  and 
Ary  Renan. 

12mo.      Cloth.     $1.25. 

The  storv'  was  written  years  ago,  privately  printed  in  an  edition  limited 
to  100  copies,  and  circulated  by  Renan  among  his  intimate  friends.  Mme. 
Renan  lately  concluded,  however,  to  give  it  to  the  world.  The  pictures  will 
include  a  view  of  Renau's  birthplace  in  Brittany,  and  several  Syrian  pic- 
tures. The  book  itself  is  a  glowing  tribute  to  a  devoted  sister;  it  contains, 
also,  some  of  Renan's  most  felicitous  essays  in  description  and  portraiture. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,   AND    COMPANY,  Publishers, 
254  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


,  §^i^ts  &&  fourth*  t^Hy  overdue 


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OCT  14 19*'' 
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1 7 1962 


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